Where There's Smoke
by Zivacentric
Summary: Episode tag & SPOILERS FOR 9x23, "Up In Smoke." First-time Zibbs. Gibbs shows up at Ziva's while they are both feeling restless. She knows what's up with her; he hasn't figured it out yet from his end. Will he?
1. Lighting the Fuse

_A/N: Okay, so yet another episode tag hit me from this season for "Up In Smoke" (9x23). It wouldn't let go until I wrote it and the timing is perfect for a HAPPY BIRTHDAY shout to my friend WithTheGrain. :D (I'm so tickled I managed to get my obsessive editing under control so I could actually start posting this on your day, even if it's just under the wire in my time zone. :p) _

_For the purposes of this fic, the episode ends with that last conversation between Gibbs & Dr. Ryan, so Vance has not disappeared. That aforementioned conversation ends a little differently, as well. ;) This was "supposed" to be a 1-2 shot, but it appears there will actually be 2-3 more chaps after this one. *rolls eyes at self* Hoping to have the updates up fairly quickly. I think you'll see as the story progresses that I've taken their relationship out to play in a little different manner than I usually do; that has been both challenging and fun.__  
_

_I also must give a shout-out to spinakker18 who sent me 3 Zibbs images from this very ep today from the scene where Gibbs pulls Ziva up from that bench when she's dressed in that HOT black dress *thud*; hopefully, I can use one for a new avatar. :D THANKS for thinking of me and for your impeccable timing. =)  
_

_For those of you following "Waves of Grace," I am working on the next installment there, as well, and should have an update ready soon.  
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_Enjoy - and thanks for reading!  
_

* * *

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Silence.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Silence.

A stranger listening to the sounds coming from Ziva David's apartment would have wondered what in the world would make those rhythmic "thuds" broken by brief, but seemingly measured periods of complete silence.

Those who knew her well would have no trouble recognizing the sounds for what they were: three knives thrown in quick succession into the door jamb she would no doubt have to replace before moving, followed by controlled, deliberate footsteps to retrieve her current weapon of choice. Walk back. Repeat.

They'd reached that point in the Dearing case earlier tonight where they were all beyond exhaustion, both physically and mentally, and there were no new leads to chase. Being drained and frustrated-to-furious did not make for clear thinking and Gibbs needed them on their A game. So, in an unexpected move, he had sent them all home around midnight to catch some sleep, take a shower, whatever.

Ziva hadn't really expected Gibbs to leave, so she stayed behind when Tony and Tim wearily walked to the elevator after being given The Gibbs Stare until they moved. She had purposely busied herself and kept her eyes averted to avoid that very look. However, he surprised her by getting up shortly after and heading out himself, stopping at her desk to order her gently to do the same. He laid a finger light as a feather over her lips before she could deny the need to leave and stood there expectantly until she reluctantly gathered her things and walked out with him.

She needed to change out of her little black dress anyway, Ziva shrugged to herself. She'd brought a change of clothes with her when she'd returned to NCIS after running home to dress in on-the-job attire of a very different sort than usual for their field work tonight, but guessed she could change back at her apartment just as easily, if not more so.

They spoke not a word to each other in the elevator. In fact, Gibbs seemed to be concentrating his eyes straight ahead with particular focus in a way that struck her as a little odd. In the parking garage, she called out a _See you soon _as they neared their respective vehicles. He simply lifted his hand in acknowledgment, climbed into his truck, and sped away.

She sat there for a moment reflecting on his mood … he was stewing about something and she had a gut feeling he wasn't headed home. And that left _her_ gut feeling hollow, though she had absolutely no right to feel that way.

In her apartment, she'd been too wound up to sleep. She'd taken a long shower, then spent time brushing her hair out straight while it dried. Neither of those activities had relaxed her enough to rest, so she'd pulled on soft black cotton pants paired with a running tank and had moved into a few yoga positions that normally helped calm her mind and release tension in her body.

But not even that had worked very well tonight.

So, she tried another relaxation technique in her arsenal: practicing her knife throwing. If this didn't do it, she'd clean her guns. All of them.

Surely after that she would have killed enough time to go back to work.

It wasn't really the case that had her feeling restless, even though it felt like time was slipping away before Dearing pulled off something big. No, she'd managed to allow the bulk of those thoughts to wash down the drain with the hot water from her shower. She was experienced enough to know that sometimes you had to stop thinking about a case and then come back to it fresh before something would gel in a way you hadn't seen before.

Turning her head off about Gibbs and Dr. Ryan … now that was proving elusive tonight.

She'd wanted to duct-tape Tony's mouth shut earlier when he wouldn't stop talking about them. She'd nearly gagged when she'd referred to them as a couple – had, in fact, hesitated before she could force the word out – and declared they should all back off. She'd like to back someone off all right, she thought darkly.

Dr. Ryan off the nearest cliff.

Ziva wanted Gibbs to find happiness, she really did. She cared for him too much not to want that for him. But … in the most secret corner of her heart, she wanted him to find it with her. Not with Dr. Samantha Ryan. Not with anyone else. Just her.

The odds of that happening were slim to none, to be sure – but that didn't mean that her desire for it never snuck out from behind the rigid wall of control she attempted to keep around it.

Like tonight, apparently.

And, frankly, Gibbs didn't seem all that happy with his new girlfriend. In fact, as the weeks went on, the more troubled he seemed. And today that unrest had seemed to go off the charts as time kept ticking away and tidbits of information were slowly revealed – but rarely by Dr. Ryan. No, the woman Ziva presumed was Gibbs' lover seemed to almost relish keeping her information on a "need to know" basis, usually only deigning to confirm something the team had already worked hard to figure out.

An especially loud, vicious-sounding _THUD_ followed that last thought.

Ziva had known from the moment Jenny had introduced them that she'd never met anyone like Leroy Jethro Gibbs and wasn't likely to again. Actually, if she were completely honest, her fascination with the man had begun as soon as she'd started researching him prior to arriving in the States. Meeting him in person had only solidified her interest, even as it set in motion a chain of events that no one saw coming. The fallout from that could have derailed them completely, but ended up forging a bond between them on which they'd eventually built a working relationship and more.

He appealed to her on so many levels … not just physically, though God knows that was in the mix. In many respects, they were a lot alike and they understood each other in ways that often required no verbal communication, in ways that no one else truly understood either one of them. There was no measuring the depth of emotion that stirred in her.

She occasionally allowed herself to fantasize that he could be happy with _her_, that they could bring happiness to each other's lives … something they'd both been missing in a deep, meaningful way for a very long time.

She didn't kid herself, however, into thinking that was likely to happen. After all, he had rules about that and, truth be told, she understood as well as he did that getting romantically involved with a co-worker could go to hell in a handbasket in the space of a heartbeat. Besides, given the women he'd married or dated, she clearly wasn't his type.

But he was hers.

And enticingly, despite his rules and the color of her hair, sometimes when they were alone together she felt a _zing_ of attraction that seemed returned and had from the very beginning. Those feelings gave her a glimpse of what it could be like between them. It was like a bright, sparkling, breath-taking ball just out of her reach that she longed to grasp and cradle protectively to her heart.

Like that was going to happen.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

And when he touched her … Ziva closed her eyes and swayed slightly in place as the sensations that were her body's instinctive response to him cascaded through her.

No matter the reason for the touch – accidental, comfort, an affectionate hug, getting her attention, playing a part for an op – her body responded to the bone as though recognizing him on a deep elemental level … _There__ you are; I have been waiting for you._

She retrieved her knives and walked back to her starting position.

Earlier tonight was an excellent case in point. She'd been dressed for a night on the town, playing her part in the sting they'd constructed in hopes of catching Dearing. She was seated on a bench as though waiting for a friend, a lover or even for someone to proposition her. How she was viewed was not important; she simply needed to blend into those around her while keeping an eye on that security guard and a lookout for the limo.

The men with whom she worked had come strolling out of the nearby bar after their "bachelor party," seemingly jovial and without a care in the world. Gibbs had smiled at her, had pulled her up to join them, his arm settling around her waist, his hand cupping her right hip tantalizingly close to her ass.

His smile turned into a suggestive grin as he'd whispered into her ear … just playing his part, she knew. However, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, her soul had taken one moment to absorb the feelings running through her, to breathe him in … to pretend it was real.

Then she'd resolutely turned that off and once again became fully engaged in being the federal agent she was.

Maddeningly, it was not Dearing in that limo, but Maple. At the Navy Yard, she and Gibbs had interrogated him only to discover that the man had been embezzling from Dearing's company and that Dearing was still managing to lead them on a merry chase, always at least one step ahead.

It was at that point that Gibbs had decided they needed a break. He was right, but she would have preferred to keep working. Only after he'd quietly insisted – had, in fact, waited for her – had she left to come home to an apartment that felt lonely tonight, instead of like the warm, comfortable refuge she'd purposely created.

And that was the long explanation as to why she now stood in that apartment throwing knives into a narrow strip of wood at 2am.

_Thud. Thud._

Suddenly her cell phone rang, shattering the silence. She'd just released her third knife again and cursed when the unexpected noise made her jerk, ensuring that she missed her mark.

She knew from the ringtone that Gibbs was calling. Ziva answered on the second ring.

"Yes, Gibbs," she greeted him, well-practiced at slipping into her professional, almost stoic voice. "Has there been a break in the case? I can –"

"No break," he cut her off succinctly in a low voice.

"Oh," she uttered, her surprise evident. Silence stretched between them for a moment. Her voice unconsciously softened. "Is there something that you need?"

_You_.

Gibbs mentally head-slapped himself. _Jesus, where the hell had that come from?_ Jethro knew he was feeling out of sorts and could _not_ get the picture of her in that little black form-fitting dress from earlier tonight out of his mind, but still …

He kept a tight lid on those thoughts with regard to Ziva.

Most of the time.

He'd been driving for a while after seeing Ryan. Gibbs had gone to her office when he left NCIS as his gut had been churning over that theory she'd floated about Dearing's activities and over all that he was certain she knew and wasn't telling him. After a conversation that had gone from quiet to strained to absurd to confrontational, he'd informed her that he might have to put up with head games on the job, but he damn well didn't have to in his personal life.

"_So what are you saying, Gibbs? We're done?" Dr. Ryan asked, almost cocky in her disbelief, clearly expecting him to say no._

"_Oh, yeah – we're done."_

Knowing on some level that it had been a mistake to get involved with her in the first place, he'd walked out the door and never looked back.

Much to his surprise, he ultimately found himself driving to Ziva's instead of toward home without any conscious thought.

Once he realized where he was headed, he told himself if her lights were dark, he wouldn't bother her.

What he didn't say was that being near her often soothed him, that sometimes he just wanted to be wherever she was.

That sometimes he wanted more.

His feelings toward Ziva had always had an undercurrent of desire that complicated things if he examined it too closely – so he'd become an expert at avoiding that.

He could acknowledge that a certain warmth lay between them that he didn't share with anyone else. Despite the circumstances under which they'd met, their connection had formed almost immediately and strengthened over time … and had become something he wanted to move toward and away from in equal measure because he didn't fully understand it.

_Or maybe you understand it all too well and it scares the hell out of you_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

He'd become an expert at ignoring that voice, too.

On the very rare occasions when he was deep into a bottle of bourbon and admitted to himself that he found her very attractive, he immediately played it off. _She's a beautiful woman – who wouldn't?_

Tonight, he reminded himself they were friends as well as co-workers, so it was no big deal to show up at her place for company or conversation or whatever the hell he was there for … and wondered who he was trying to convince.

As he pulled to the curb and saw lights on in her apartment, he honestly couldn't put into words exactly what he was doing here, but had the sense that this could be a _really_ bad idea.

Or a really good one.

He couldn't decide that either.

He called her anyway.

"Gibbs?" Ziva's almost-hesitant voice in his ear brought him out of his ruminating.

"I'm here," he answered softly. He released a silent sigh and took a step into the gray. "Think I could come in?"

To say she was taken aback would be an understatement. People went to Gibbs; he never came to them.

Automatically, she walked over to the living room window that overlooked the street. Parting the drapes slightly, she peered out. Sure enough, he was sitting out there in his silver truck.

"Certainly," she replied reflexively. What else could she say? And, honestly, there was no other answer she wanted to give him. "I will buzz you in downstairs."

True to form, he hung up without saying goodbye. She laid her phone down on the table in front of the couch and walked over to the intercom to release the lock on the security door. She then unlocked her apartment door and opened it, stepping into the doorway to see him coming up the stairs to the second floor with only a hint of his usual jog.

As he came toward her, she couldn't help but notice that he looked a little worse for wear than when he'd left NCIS, though he still had a ghost of his characteristic smile for her.

"Please, come in," she invited somewhat formally, struggling to get her emotional shields back in place after the kind of thinking she'd been indulging in just before he'd called. She stepped back into her apartment and opened the door wider so he could enter.

She closed and locked the door behind him. He moved a little further into the room, seemingly at a loss as to what to do with himself next.

Ziva grew vaguely concerned; there was something different about him tonight. The part of her that had always been driven to protect him rose up inside her, nudging her to take care of him.

She touched his forearm gently, murmuring, "Sit." She gestured toward the couch.

He sat, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes as though he couldn't help himself, as though it was finally safe to relax, even just for a short while.

"Can I get you something?" Ziva asked quietly. Her voice became more affectionate as she went on to lightly offer him, "I even have bourbon."

He huffed out a brief chuckle.

"Not sure that's such a great idea right now," he admitted honestly.

"Okay - now you have me worried," Ziva informed him. She laid the backs of her fingers against his forehead as though checking for a fever. "Are you sick?" she asked, not quite joking.

"Sick and tired maybe," he shared without opening his eyes. He felt a little guilty at just how much he enjoyed the feel of her skin against his, but not enough to move out from beneath her hand.

"Of what?" she asked softly, removing her hand to sit beside him, angling her body so she was facing him.

He took so long to answer, that she thought he might not.

"Being a step behind. Head games. Dearing." His next pause was a little longer than the ones he'd put between the first three words. "Ryan."

Ziva's heart gave a little leap which she quickly tried to squelch.

"We will get Dearing, Gibbs," she assured him, starting with what felt like the safest topic. "You are better than he is."

"Not today. Not lately."

"You are and will be," she reiterated firmly. "You are just exhausted, pushing yourself even harder than you push any of the rest of us."

Her words were met with silence, but it was not an uncomfortable one.

After a few moments, Ziva observed quietly, "Given that you are wearing the same clothes you wore all day, it appears you have not been home, contrary to your own directive."

"There a question in there, Ziver?"

"Only if you want there to be one, Gibbs," she answered.

Her voice was soft, but the tone curled through him, warming him. Funny, he hadn't realized he was cold.

He kept his eyes closed and found himself wishing she'd put her hand back on his forehead.

"Went to see Dr. Ryan," he revealed, making her name sound very formal and professional.

Ziva shoved aside the feeling of disappointment that washed over her. After all, she'd known he was headed there when he left the office. She didn't say anything, just gave him space to talk if he wanted to continue.

"More head games," he shared, clearly disgusted. Then his tone took on a definitive edge. "But told her I'm done with those."

There was that little heart leap again.

"What does that mean?" she couldn't help but ask.

He kept his head back against the cushions, but finally turned his head and opened his eyes to look at her. "What do you think it means?"

"That you …" she answered slowly, "are no longer seeing her on a personal basis - ?"

Her voice was tentative, clearly surprised and more than a little worried about making a misstep.

"Got it in one," he congratulated her.

Silence reigned once more.

Their eyes stayed connected, opening that communication highway that ran only between the two of them.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, unconsciously laying one of her hands on his left one which was resting on the couch beside his thigh.

A small smile graced his lips and he turned his hand over so he could squeeze hers back. He rolled his head so it was tilted back against her couch once more and closed his eyes again.

"Yeah," he breathed out on a sigh. "Just tired."

His stomach suddenly protested the fact that it had been far too long since he'd ingested anything but coffee.

"And apparently hungry," he noted wryly as her lips curved.

As she sat there thinking over what she could offer him to eat, he rubbed his right hand over his face and through his hair, then made to get up. "I should go grab a shower and let you get some sleep."

"No," Ziva said quickly. He looked at her with a little surprise. "I mean, I was not able to sleep so there is no need for you to go." Impulsively she asked, "Do you have a go-bag in your truck?"

He nodded.

"Then you should stay here," she told him, staring down at where their hands were still clasped, avoiding his all-too-seeing eyes. Haltingly, she added, "You could take a shower while I make you something to eat, then you could sleep here for a while. We need to be back at work soon; there is no need for you to waste part of that time driving home."

She could feel him looking at her for a moment and fought the urge to squirm.

"You sure?" he asked searchingly.

"Yes, I am sure," she nodded, glancing cautiously back up at him.

He gazed into her eyes for a long minute and saw sincerity in hers, along with something she wouldn't let him read. Gibbs realized he wanted nothing more right then than to stay, though that worried him some.

Okay, more than _some_.

He had the strangest feeling that something was shifting between Ziva and him. He could almost see possibilities that he normally left clouded. But why tonight? And … was that a good thing?

Jethro honestly didn't know and was a little uneasy about that, but right now the bottom line was that he couldn't marshal the energy to fight himself. Tonight he simply wanted … to just … be.

His silence lasted long enough that Ziva's stomach dropped and she worried that she'd been too forward or revealed too much. She started to retreat – physically, emotionally.

"Never mind. You should go, if you want to." She tried to pull her hand from his as her eyes flicked away.

"Don't want to," he admitted softly, lacing his fingers through hers, keeping her hand in his.

"You don't?" she repeated, her heart lurching and hope – for what exactly, she wasn't sure – rising in her chest.

He gave her that half-smile of his that could honest-to-God make her melt and slightly shook his head as her gaze met his once more.

Her smile peaked out and those clouds in his head cleared just a little more.

She handed him her keys to get back in the security door and he went out to get his bag from his truck. While he was gone, she laid towels and a washcloth out for him in her bathroom and gathered bedding for the couch. After he ate, she'd give him her bed and rest out here, certain she wouldn't actually sleep.

They passed each other in the short hall leading from the living room to the bathroom, her arms full of linens.

"You can have my bed and I will take the couch," she informed him with a casualness she did not feel.

"Not kicking you out of your bed, Ziver," he said firmly. "Caused you enough trouble already tonight. Besides, I'm used to the couch." She looked at him questioningly. "Usually sleep there at home."

"You are my guest, Gibbs; I will take the couch," she said firmly.

He let it go for now, but had no intention of going along with that.

The idea that they could share the couch – or her bed – flitted through his mind and caught him completely by surprise.

Okay, so it wasn't that he'd _never_ entertained such a thought or three about one certain Israeli American - it just usually took a lot of liquor before his thoughts wandered into that dangerous territory.

Gibbs searched around for some kind of distraction and noticed two of her knives sticking out of the wood around the doorway. He looked at them deliberately, then lifted his brows at her in silent question.

She actually blushed a little and shrugged as she explained, "I was trying to relax."

He grinned – and loved that about her.

"Missed one," he observed in surprise, spotting the last one she'd thrown that had ended up bouncing off the wall in the hallway and landing on the floor.

"My phone rang unexpectedly just as I released that one." She gave him a meaningful look.

Breaking one of his cardinal rules and tilting his head a little to the side in that way he had, he offered, "Sorry - ?"

The word was more of a question than a statement and he didn't look repentant in the least.

It made her chuckle lightly.

"I am not," she responded quietly with a small smile.

"Me either," he admitted quietly.

Her smile brightened even as it became a little shy, a little sweet, a little hesitant.

"You cleaned your guns yet?" he asked, the twinkle in his blue eyes moving them past what could have become an awkward moment.

"Those were next on the agenda," she shared wryly, loving that he knew that about her.

It was his turn to chuckle.

"I think you will find everything in there," she said, changing the subject with a nod toward the bathroom. "Just look around if there is anything else you need."

An unintentional double-meaning to her words arced between them, until the ghost of a smile graced his lips and broke the moment. With a murmured, "Thanks," he headed toward the shower.

"What do you feel like eating?" she called after him before she could blurt out something stupid like, say, an offer to wash his back.

He threw her a look over his shoulder. "Beggars can't be choosers," he noted. "Whatever you feel like fixing is fine."

With a little nod, she turned toward the couch and quickly made it up with a sheet, pillow and blanket. She heard the water go on in the bathroom and went into the kitchen, figuring he would probably be out soon. She contemplated her choices while she tried really hard not to dwell on the fact that Gibbs was in her shower. Naked. Wet.

With a deep, bracing breath she ordered herself to get a grip. Despite the fact that something extra seemed to be humming on the air between them tonight, it just wasn't likely that things were really all that different.

In that secret corner of her heart, though, that shiny ball of hope glinted wistfully. _But wouldn't it be wonderful if they were?_

* * *

_P.S. - Psst, WithTheGrain. Perhaps you'd share a showering Gibbs with Gibbsredhoodie, as rumor has it she's had a birthday recently, as well. I think there's enough of him to go around ... but you both might want to be on the lookout for a certain ninja! :p _

_Welcome aboard my Zibbs ship, Hoodie; pleasure having you along for the sail. =)  
_


	2. Ignition

Ziva decided to fix him scrambled eggs and toast. While the eggs were cooking, she chopped a small fresh tomato into large chunks to put on the side and cut up several different fruits into an attractive mix. She was just giving the eggs one last fluff with an expert twist of her wrist when she sensed him standing behind her. She threw a glance over her shoulder and the unexpected flash of heat that pooled at her center nearly stole her breath. He was leaning against the doorway watching her, wearing nothing but dark sweats and one of his white t-shirts, still rubbing his hair with a towel.

There was nothing remotely sexy about his clothing per se, but his masculinity hit her like a ton of bricks. It was somehow even more obvious than when it was hidden under chinos, a polo shirt and a sport jacket.

She turned back to her task and reached over to push the toaster button down. She willed her heart rate to slow, but it wasn't easy given that she was fully aware that his eyes were still on her.

"You are staring as though you have not seen a woman cook before," she observed with a nonchalance she did not feel.

"Haven't in a really long time," he admitted, not changing his position.

He kept to himself that that watching her do it touched some elemental chord of contentment deep within him. He was reluctant to examine the implication of that inside his own head right then, let alone say it out loud.

"Dr. Ryan did not –" She broke off in mid-question. Raising a finger in the air for emphasis, she declared, "That is none of my business."

He answered her anyway.

"Doc cooks even less than I do," he snorted. "She's got a housekeeper that takes care of that. Or so she says."

She looked at him with her brow lightly furrowed.

"Never actually been to her house," he revealed.

Ziva made a small sound of _Oh_ and didn't ask anything else. The toast popped up and she was glad for the interruption. She buttered the perfectly toasted bread, then placed it on a dinner plate along with the eggs and tomato.

"Have a seat," she suggested, nodding toward the small table in her kitchen where one place was already set with silverware and a bowl of the mixed fruit.

"You're not eating?" he asked, sitting down.

"I am not that hungry," she replied, "but I will have some tea with you."

She placed the full plate in front of him and was gratified to hear his stomach growl at the appetizing aroma.

Standing close to him, she noticed that he must have had some of his regular soap in his travel bag because he smelled exactly like himself, stirring her senses.

"I was not sure what you wanted to drink," she stated, resolutely yanking her thoughts back to the here and now before she lost her head and nuzzled her nose into his neck. "I could make coffee if you like, or I have juice, water … or you can still choose that bourbon." Her eyes teased him a little with that last option.

"Tea's good," he said offhandedly.

Well. Apparently this night was destined to be chock full of surprises.

His smile at her obvious astonishment made her stomach flip-flop and she ordered herself once again to get a grip. _I would like to get a grip on something_ _– or someone _she thought naughtily before she shushed that voice in her head.

"Tea it is," she replied, managing to pull off a casual tone.

She made chamomile tea for both of them, put some jelly on the table and sat in the chair on his right.

"This is great," he commended her.

"Thank you. It is nothing fancy, but I am glad you like it," she responded softly, pleasure at his compliment evident on her face.

After a few bites in a silence that was not uncomfortable despite all the thoughts they were each keeping to themselves, he said, "Never had tomatoes with eggs before."

"It is something I like," she shrugged. Then her eyes took on a decidedly teasing glint. "Besides, it has been a while since you last ate and may perhaps be even longer before you eat again, so I thought I should get all the major food groups in you while I had the chance."

Then her face heated a little as the familiarity of her words hit her, like somehow she had the right to be worried about his eating habits.

One side of his mouth kicked up in a half-smirk. "Good thinkin'."

His easy words of praise immediately moved her beyond her self-consciousness.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, turning the tables on her.

She shrugged.

He gave her a direct look.

"Get a fork," he ordered. "There's enough here for both of us."

"I am fine," she protested, though the smell of the food was starting to make her stomach sit up and take notice.

"Okay then, we'll do it my way." He dished up some eggs on his fork and brought it to her mouth. She automatically opened up and took the bite. Their eyes locked. Ziva was the first to look away.

Her stomach rumbled and they both smiled. Hers was just a small one with a hint of chagrin; his had just enough _told you so_ to remind her that he was Gibbs – he knew these things. He scooted the fruit bowl over so that it sat between them and looked at her expectantly until she daintily picked up a slice of banana and popped it into her mouth. If she'd been looking at him, she'd have noticed his eyes darken with a little heat watching her.

There was a scintillating intimacy that had her hormones humming sitting there alone in her kitchen with Gibbs, literally sharing the meal she'd cooked for him. By the time he gave her a fourth bite, her lips moved slowly over the fork as she looked directly into his eyes without thinking, her focus solely on him.

Who knew sharing scrambled eggs in the middle of the night could be so erotic?

She made a valiant effort to rein in that line of thinking and her physical response to him. She didn't fully succeed, but surely the fact that she tried accounted for something.

Eventually, they'd finished everything off between the two of them, though she made sure he ate the lion's share. Her napkin dropped to the floor and they both reached down for it at the same time. She turned her head to say she had it, only to find their faces so close that her lips brushed his. They both froze.

"I am sorry," Ziva mumbled, pulling back and looking away. Her stomach clenched and her heart thudded in her chest. A furious blush rose in her cheeks. "That was completely inappropriate – and an accident. I did not mean –"

Banked desire flared again in his eyes, mirroring the longing she was struggling to hide in hers.

Following his instincts and ignoring all the reasons he shouldn't, he lifted a hand to cup her jaw and gently turned her face back toward his.

"Any chance you'd stop apologizing and do it again?" he interrupted in a low rumble that skittered up her spine. "Like you mean it?"

The thumping of her heart beat kicked up another notch or four - it seemed so loud it was a wonder he couldn't hear it. She certainly could; it pounded in her ears, accompanied by a _whoosh _of air that left her feeling as though she were caught in a whirlwind. She couldn't breathe and couldn't think, but in that moment didn't care if she ever did either of those things again.

They would never be able to decide who made the first move in leaning just a little closer, but their mouths brushed against each other's once more in slow motion, light as a butterfly's wing. Of their own accord, her lips softened under his and the skim became a kiss … one that was warm, just a little hesitant, and full of underlying meaning.

They pulled back from one another slowly, lips clinging. Ziva lifted her eyelids to find his unreadable blue eyes staring steadily back at her – and abruptly panicked.

She rose quickly from her seat to stand at the counter. Her back was to him and her fingers gripped the edge in front of her until her knuckles were white.

He watched her for a few seconds as he took inventory of the myriad of emotions careening through him. In addition to shock and amazement and a host of other feelings he left unnamed at the moment, he felt a strong need to hold her, to comfort her – and an overwhelming urge to kiss her again.

Consciously shoving his rules and everything else but the woman in front of him to the back of his mind, he moved from his seat to stand right behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Gibbs?" she whispered, suddenly feeling as though she were adrift at sea without an anchor. "What are we doing?"

"If you have to ask, I must be doing something wrong," he teased her in a smoky voice.

"Not wrong," she husked. "It is just … "

Her voice drifted off. She was unable to say that she wanted this, wanted _him_ too much to engage in something casual or meaningless – or to catch him on the rebound.

"Trust me enough to tell me what you're thinking - ?" he asked quietly, the tenderness in his voice nearly her undoing.

A pregnant silence weighed heavily between them before she finally spoke.

"It is not about trusting you." The affectionate kiss he pressed to her hair gave her the nudge she needed to continue in a low voice. "It is about protecting myself."

"From me?" he asked.

"Not … exactly," she responded evasively.

"From what?" he pushed gently.

You could have heard a pin drop in the quiet of that kitchen.

"From the fact that I have feelings for you that you do not have for me," she finally admitted somewhat bleakly, closing her eyes against the moisture that threatened, holding herself rigidly upright when all she wanted to do was melt against him.

_Fantastic _she thought to herself. Now she'd done it – ruined everything.

His response surprised even himself, though it felt completely right.

"Wouldn't be too sure about that," he advised her warmly, bending his head to press the side of his face against hers.

"Gibbs?" Her voice was lighter than a whisper.

He turned her to face him, his hands settling heavily on her hips.

"Say my name, Ziva," he husked.

"I just did," she answered, avoiding his gaze as she tried to step back from what felt like a very narrow emotional ledge.

"Not that one," he clarified.

She looked up at him, her pulse racing at such a simple request that carried such intimate connotations.

After a moment that felt like a lifetime, she complied.

"Jethro," she whispered breathlessly, a tiny, hesitant smile fighting to slip past her nerves.

His blue eyes darkened with satisfaction and, unmistakably, desire.

Burying his hand in her hair and cupping the back of her head, he slowly urged her lips to his once more, giving her plenty of time to back out if she wanted to.

She didn't.

The kiss started gentle and easy, then became a little more heated as his lips slid over, between hers. When it came to an end, she buried her face in his neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Breathing him in, she had the fleeting thought that her fantasies of this moment had never done the reality justice_._

"Did you know that was there between us?" he asked quietly, running one hand up and down her back just for the pure pleasure of it.

"I knew it was there for me," she admitted in a voice he had to strain to hear, "but I did not think it was the same for you."

He took a moment to consider his next words. Talking wasn't his strong suit, but she deserved an honest effort on his part.

"Part of me knew," he began slowly, "but I kept it buried pretty deep." He paused. "And was so busy trying to keep my reaction to you below even my own radar, that I missed what was happening with you."

He hugged her a little more tightly, the feelings that he was cautiously letting out suddenly starting to rush through him like water over rapids.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, unsure if he was apologizing for not noticing her feelings or for the fact that he was struggling to get a handle on his own emotions that currently felt beyond recognition.

She shook her head against him.

"Do not be," she whispered. "Please."

He reflected for a moment. "Did a good job of hiding from this; might need a little time to catch up. That gonna hurt you?"

She shrugged while still hiding her face from him.

"Ziver?" He gently nudged her head up with the side of his finger under her chin. When she still avoided his eyes, he commanded softly, "Look at me."

Guardedly, her brown-eyed gaze met his bright blue one.

"That gonna hurt you?" he repeated.

She'd come this far; she might as well admit to everything. God help her.

"I do not know," she confessed. After a pause, she took a bracing breath, kept her gaze on his and came clean on the rest. "But I love you too much not to give you that time, if you really want it."

Surprise and wonder and a fierce possessive heat chased quickly across his face before he gathered her into him, leaning his forehead against hers, something akin to gratitude flowing through his touch. He was rendered speechless at the trust she'd just placed in him by opening up to that degree.

She'd been afraid he'd be upset, unsettled at her admission. Comforted by his reaction, she tucked her face where his shoulder met his neck, sliding her arms around his chest to hug him tightly. She was still worried that she'd just changed everything between them too much, but realized she wouldn't take it back even if she could. She wasn't ashamed of how she felt about him; he was the best man she'd ever met. And, truthfully, there was a certain strength and freedom in sharing her feelings instead of secreting them away, even if it left her more vulnerable than she normally willingly chose to be.

They simply held each other for a moment, both savoring the simple pleasure of it.

"What about your rules? And work?" she asked hesitantly, revealing the concerns that were tempering her joy at this unexpected turn of events. One of her hands came around to pluck at the front of his t-shirt nervously. He captured it with his hand and raised it to his lips before holding it back against his chest. Her next words were offered in a hoarse whisper that she had to push past the lump in her throat. "And the fact that just few hours ago you were …" _sleeping with_ "… dating Dr. Ryan?"

He released a deep sigh. After tilting her head up just enough to press a kiss to her forehead in a manner that somehow felt more cherishing than all the other times he'd done the very same thing, he took one step back.

Her stomach dropped and she silently chastised herself for not keeping her mouth shut.

She didn't have long to regret her questions, however; it turned out he wasn't backing away from her, literally or figuratively. Keeping her hand in his to be sure she stayed close, he murmured, "C'mere."

He led the way to the couch and sat, tugging her down beside him in the midst of the bedding. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders and placing a hand on her right hip, he held her against his chest. He didn't speak until he felt her start to relax.

"First of all, Doc and I are done," he said firmly. "And don't think the end of that has anything to do with this. That's over because it never should have started in the first place. And never got in deep there, anyway ... couldn't trust her, not completely. When I left her office, I was relieved and as irritated at myself as with her.

"Worried about work some," he continued honestly after a short pause. "Made Rule 12 for a reason and don't want to screw things up – not on the job, not with the team, not with you."

He looked down at her and lifted her face toward his with a finger under her chin. "I care about you, Ziva, with or without taking this to another level."

"I do not know what I would do if I somehow end up losing you altogether – as a friend, as part of your team," she divulged in a husky voice, putting aside her concern about whether this was too soon after Ryan for now. She closed her eyes. "That is what worries me."

Then she lifted her eyes once more and looked into the brilliant blue of his, that extraordinary color that she would never tire of seeing.

"But I want you like this, too," she admitted truthfully. "I have for a very long time. In fact, you might not wish to know just how much."

His characteristic smile made her heart race, then he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her again. This time it was hotter, the infusion of feeling from both sides pulling them under a little more.

"Want you, too," he murmured against her lips, finding a heady freedom in admitting that at last. "And you might be surprised."

At that, she wrapped both arms around his neck like silken ropes and pulled him even closer, moving her lips against his passionately, gently sucking his lower lip into her mouth.

When they came up for air, she indulged herself by skimming her lips along his jaw and down his throat before resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch before he tilted his head back against the couch, closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. Gibbs sure hadn't expected all this when he'd shown up at her apartment tonight, but he couldn't deny how right it felt, how the restlessness with which he'd walked through her door was, for now, completely calmed.

"Why tonight?" she murmured, stating one of his own previous questions out loud.

"Dunno," he said. Then a smirk played around his lips. "Maybe it had something to do with that dress you were wearing earlier. God, you looked gorgeous." He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. "Keep picturing you in my head."

"Well," she responded with a faint smile, "if it helped you notice that I am a woman in addition to being a special agent, it was certainly worth running in heels."

"Always noticed that," he informed her. "And think you're beautiful no matter what you're wearing."

That earned him a squeeze and a small kiss pressed to his shoulder.

"What if …" he started, running one hand over back, unconsciously communicating a powerful tenderness through his fingertips. After a pause, he continued. "What if we take things slow, see where this goes? Maybe even take some time away together after we get Dearing behind bars or on Ducky's table."

"That is our first priority," she confirmed with a nod, sounding more like one of his agents than a woman in love.

He looked down at her. "Yeah, it has to be, but that's not a reflection on you, on … us."

Her heart gave a happy little leap at his words. _Us_.

Her lips curved gently. "I know."

And he knew that she did understand. Truth be told, that was one of the things that had always drawn him to her, even in friendship. He could be who he was and she got it. He'd just subconsciously been hanging onto his rules and painful memories like a man terrified of crashing against the rocks rather than just letting go and letting himself be with her in all the ways he really wanted. But maybe that was about to change ...

"Don't know how I'll be at work at first with this," he told her honestly, trying to prepare her. He knew he wasn't the easiest man to be with under the best of circumstances, let alone when he was trying to navigate such a gray area as this. "I'll try not to, but might screw up sometimes."

Her heart smiled, loving the fact that he was already taking care of her emotionally on a whole new level without even really realizing it.

"I might, too," she pointed out softly. "So perhaps we should agree to be patient with each other – even if that is not second nature to either one of us."

The knowing twinkle in her eye relaxed the tension that had gripped him. He gave a short bark of laughter as he squeezed her. Maybe his luck with women over the last couple of decades was changing because he'd finally found the right one.

"Are there any rules about how often I can kiss you while we are taking it slowly and when we are not at work?" she interrupted his thoughts, running a finger lightly, seductively along his lower lip.

"Yeah."

She lifted a brow in question.

"As often as possible." Ziva gave him a hopeful look that said _Really? _He nodded. "Might be scared, but I'm not stupid."

"You are not scared," she denied, practically snorting.

"Yeah, I am," he corrected her. He thought it over for a moment. "But maybe that's a good thing."

She looked up at him quizzically.

"Means it matters," he explained. "You matter."

That earned him a kiss that rocked his world as she dipped her tongue into his mouth for the first time – until he took control of it and returned the favor.

"You are either catching up quickly or you are really good at faking it," Ziva observed breathlessly when he raised his head at last.

"Not faking it," he assured her softly.

A thrilled wonder lit her eyes at his answer. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth as she smiled at him.

Both of them were more than a little off balance at this unexpected turn of events, but neither could deny that holding onto each other felt like a port in a storm.

"Let's get some sleep," he suggested, running his hand over her hair. His voice softened. "Can I hold you for a while?"

She nodded almost shyly, her heart in her eyes. She'd been honest with him about how she felt and she wasn't going to start playing coy now. Maybe they weren't on the same page yet; only time would tell if they ever ended up there. But, she'd never know if she suddenly backpedaled and denied them both the chance for him to figure out exactly what he wanted.

Subconsciously, he already knew; he just needed to give himself permission to embrace the feelings from which he'd spent years hiding and time to look at her, at them, differently. And he hadn't been kidding about feeling scared. He was worried about being the partner she deserved and could hardly think about opening himself up to the kind of love that might kill him if something ever happened to her. He'd successfully avoided that for over twenty years, but he had a feeling that was history.

He lay back against the pillow she'd put there earlier, taking her down with him. She snuggled against his side between him and the back of the couch, her head pillowed on his chest.

"I do have a bed with more room," she offered, tilting her head to look up at him as she settled the covers over them.

"Don't think that would be too conducive to the 'going slow' part," he pointed out dryly.

She laid one leg between his in an effort to be more comfortable and discovered that his body might not be in complete agreement about taking their time on the physical side of things.

"It _is_ possible to have sex on a couch, too, you know," she whispered wickedly in his ear as she pressed herself lightly against his hardening erection, the sexy teasing in her voice going straight to his groin.

She wanted him and figured he may as well know that, too. He'd asked for time to get caught up with her and she would give it to him unreservedly. However, in the meantime, all she could be was herself. If she pretended to be anything else, she'd never know if his ultimate decision was based on the real her or some façade she thought she should project.

If he never got to the same place she was, well … at least she'd given it her all.

And, indulging in a little – or a lot of - sizzle along the way certainly couldn't hurt, she promptly decided.

He nearly groaned as pictures of them having sex on her couch and several other interesting places scrolled quickly through his head.

"Not at my age," he denied in a feeble attempt to dampen his response to her.

Her sultry chuckle rumbled against his chest. "I look forward to proving you wrong about that."

Now he did groan.

"You are not making 'going slow' easy," he practically growled, giving in to his urge to roam his hands over her, molding her even more closely to him.

"Good," she declared provocatively, throwing him a saucy wink before using his magnificent chest as a pillow once more.

He felt her grin against him and he let out a chuckle that made her heart happy.

It suddenly occurred to her that she'd better make sure they didn't oversleep. She leaned over to pick up her phone from the table in front of the couch and quickly set an alarm. After laying it back down and reaching up to turn out the lamp beside the couch, she snuggled blissfully back against him, wrapping her right arm across his middle.

"Goodnight, Jethro," she murmured, suddenly surprisingly drowsy despite the fact that less than a couple hours before, she'd been certain she wouldn't sleep at all tonight.

"Night, Ziver." He dropped a kiss to her hair and closed his eyes. Before long, he drifted off, completely relaxed and unable to recall when he'd last felt this utterly content.

* * *

Gibbs' internal clock woke him just as the first colors of dawn's light were painting the sky. He reveled in the delicious, soft weight half on top of him as he replayed the night before in his mind. _Ziva_. He smiled and tightened his arms a little. She made a little sound that might have been his name, but otherwise didn't move.

Soon after, the alarm on Ziva's phone broke the silence. Without moving her head or opening her eyes, she flung out an arm to find it. His eyes were open by now and he grinned at her actions before reaching over and putting the phone in her hand. She lifted her lids just enough to turn off the alarm, then tossed the phone back onto the table.

Burrowing back into the heavily masculine body beneath her, Ziva mumbled, "Is it really morning?"

With that half-smile of his, he ran one hand up and down her bare arm. "'fraid so."

She tilted her head back and slowly blinked opened her eyes so she could see him. So, she hadn't dreamed that she'd slept snuggled up against him. A sunny smile stole across her lips as she felt no reservation in his touch.

"Well, waking up to you certainly improves the situation," she noted flirtatiously, smoothing her hand over his chest.

"I'll say," he agreed, his eyes revealing honest happiness and none of the awkwardness she'd been nervous he might feel.

She levered herself up enough to capture his lips in a slow, soft kiss. "Good morning," she breathed when she lifted her head.

"Morning," he returned, feeling far more refreshed than he'd expected to. "Like your couch better than mine."

"Oh? Why is that?" she asked.

"Yours comes with you," he revealed, the banked desire in his eyes heating her blood.

"You are welcome on my couch anytime," she offered warmly, leaning down to kiss him again.

After they pulled apart, she laid her head back down on his chest. In no time, he could all but feel her thinking.

"What?" he asked.

"I was afraid you would wake up this morning and regret coming over last night," she revealed slowly, quietly.

He tugged at her hair until her face was tilted up toward his.

"No regrets about anything that happened last night," he answered firmly, purposely referring to his ending things with Ryan, as well.

She breathed a little more easily and a grateful smile curved her lips before she tucked her face back down against him.

Then he offered wryly, "'course, maybe you'd have gotten more sleep if some guy hadn't shown up at your door at 2am."

The hint of vulnerability in his tone told her she wasn't the only one who might appreciate a little reassurance in the light of day. She leaned her head back again until she could snag his gaze.

"I have never been so happy to have anyone arrive on my doorstep at 2am," she informed him, the certainty of her words ringing in her voice. "And a very wise man once said you can sleep when you're dead." Her eyes twinkled as she parroted his own words back at him.

He smiled back at her, bringing a hand up to smooth it over her hair.

Wanting just a few more minutes of this before they had to re-enter the real world, she cuddled close to him again, tucking her nose into his throat. Unbidden, another worry soon started poking her.

He could feel a slight tension creep back into her muscles.

"What else you thinking?" he asked.

"How are we going to handle this with the team?" she asked.

"How do you want to handle it?" he countered.

She shrugged.

"Tell me the truth, Ziver," he demanded affectionately. "That's the only way this is gonna work."

She took another minute, then revealed softly, "I do not think we need to make some kind of announcement, especially not yet. But … " Her voice drifted off.

"But?" he nudged her.

"But I do not want to lie or pretend they are wrong if they pick up on anything," she admitted, clearly bracing herself for a possibly negative response to that.

"Me either," he informed her.

She raised her head to look into his eyes, relieved to find nothing but truth shining in them. The smile that slowly lit up her face pulled an answering one from him before their mouths came together again as though drawn by magnets. He moaned in his throat when she traced the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips silently asking for entry. He welcomed her in, sliding, teasing his tongue along hers, running his hands from her waist to her neck and back again, until they finally had to come up for air.

Reluctantly, they got up and each grabbed a quick shower to complete the process of coming awake. She pointed out that he'd better use more of his own soap or Tony would notice that he smelled like her today. She tossed him one of those flirty winks of hers before pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. He nearly snorted out a laugh, enjoying this sexy, playful side of her – and the fact that she was right.

In addition to his sweats and a shaving kit, Gibbs had a change of work clothes in his bag so there was no need for him to stop at home before heading in to NCIS. They got dressed, then decided to grab coffee and something to eat on the way.

Just before they left her apartment, he put his hand on the door while standing behind her, keeping her from opening it. She looked around, a question in her eyes.

"Aren't you gonna kiss me goodbye before I go to work?" he questioned, his own lighthearted, humorous side peeking out. He put his bag on the floor so he could use that hand to turn her toward him.

She was smiling as he leaned in to take her mouth slowly, deeply. In a heartbeat, all she could think about was kissing him back. She dropped her backpack and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. Her leg came up, wrapping around one of his, aligning their centers with delicious pressure.

After he raised his head and her world stopped spinning enough that she could stand upright under her own steam again, they made their way out the door.

As she locked up, he offered with studied casualness, "Been wondering somethin'."

"Oh?" she responded.

"Just where _did_ you have your gun in that dress last night?"

Her sexy laugh made him want to haul her back into that apartment and forget about work.

She'd worn the closest-fitting shoulder holster she owned underneath her jacket because the dress was too short and too tight for a thigh holster. She recalled the pressure of the grip of her Sig along her left breast and decided to play with him a little. Her answer had his imagination going and his body hardening again.

"Perhaps I will show you," she drawled provocatively, "the next time you are on my couch."

With happy, affectionate smiles on both their faces, they headed into work in their respective cars blissfully unaware that, within a few hours, the world as they knew it would come crashing down around them.


	3. Erupting

**_A/N:_**_ Here we have my take on one outcome of the finale. Hope you enjoy it. You'll notice that I've changed some things to fit my own little world here. BIG HUG to gosgirl for the assurance that I could let go of the obsessive editing and post. That was just what I needed. :) _

_All words and events taken from or inspired by the episode itself belong to CBS, et al.  
_

_One more chapter should close this out and the rating will go up to M, so be on the lookout for the update, if you're interested. Thanks for reading!  
_

* * *

Ziva and Gibbs arrived at work together, but separately. They'd both made the stop to pick up coffee and breakfast, and decided to get enough for the whole team. Gibbs carried the goods in himself just to see the shock on the guys' faces when he did. It was worth it.

They didn't have to know it didn't take much to make him smile this morning. Where was the fun in admitting that?

In no time, they all had their heads back in the game. The reprieve last night had done each of them some good. The team worked relentlessly on the case, going back over every last detail, determined to catch Dearing and put an end to this.

At one point, Gibbs received a text from Ryan. _MY OFFICE NOW._ He'd given a snort and ignored the summons. Ziva glanced over at him curiously. He gave her a faint smile and a look that said _Later_.

After about twenty minutes, his phone rang. Big surprise – it was Dr. Ryan. He thought about not answering, but she _was_ involved in working this case and on the off-chance that she'd actually decided to share information pertinent to it, he picked up.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"I thought you'd be here by now," she said, stress coming through loud and clear in her voice.

"If you have something to say about the case, say it," he directed evenly. "Nothing else to talk about."

He walked away from his desk. Snagging Ziva's gaze and tilting his head, he silently told her to follow him. He headed toward an empty office down the hall, moving at his usual clip. Ziva wasn't far behind, but she wasn't too sure about this.

After Ziva walked into the office he chose, he closed the door behind them.

"I – I just thought you might want to know I'm leaving," Sam said haltingly on the other end of the phone, thrown by his brusque tone despite the way he'd ended things last night. She'd been trying to convince herself he'd just spoken in the heat of the moment and would come around. Apparently not.

"You do remember we're in the middle of a case, right?" Gibbs asked in some disbelief. "A big one."

"My ex is out of prison," Ryan revealed tersely, shoring up the emotional control she prized, the control that was slipping badly. "I'm taking Parker and we're leaving."

For the first time since he'd met her, he heard fear in her voice. Just because he'd put a stop to their personal relationship didn't mean he couldn't feel for the circumstances in which she now found herself.

"Doc, people can help you with your ex," he said quietly.

"What – you'll send your best man to take him out? That's about the only thing that could help," Ryan returned. Her tone was harsh, bordering on irrational.

"My best man for that is a woman and she stays with me," he responded, looking directly into Ziva's eyes. "But there are other people – other ways – to help."

"Dearing bought a judge, Gibbs," Ryan choked out. "There's no help that can reach far enough. I have to go. Goodbye."

The line went dead.

He slowly closed his phone, staring at it for a few seconds. Ziva gently laid a hand on his forearm.

"Gibbs?" she questioned hesitantly.

He gave her a brief run-down of the side of the conversation she hadn't heard. It was true she had no love for Dr. Samantha Ryan. However, given the gravity of the other woman's situation, she pushed the uncertainty about her own situation to the side, even though it had her stomach churning a little.

"Perhaps you should go see her," Ziva offered softly.

"And do what?" Gibbs asked. "Can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. She'll handle this the way she does everything else: exactly the way she wants."

Ziva still looked slightly troubled.

He placed his hand on the back of her neck and rubbed soothingly.

"Don't want anything bad to happen, but it's not my problem," he said firmly.

He pulled her forward and pressed a reassuring kiss to her forehead. She reached up and squeezed his wrist in appreciation, then turned toward the door.

"Ziver?"

"Yes?" she asked, turning her head back toward him.

"Don't let me make a habit of this," he directed.

"Of wha-" The rest of the word was lost against his mouth as he turned her completely into him and his lips captured hers in a soft, warm kiss.

Without hesitation, her lips molded to his and she leaned into him.

The kiss wasn't long and he managed to stop himself from taking it deep, but it was nonetheless thrilling.

Her senses were swimming as he lifted his head and she leaned her forehead against his chin for a moment to steady herself.

"Jethro?"

"Mmmmm?"

"If I am the one in charge of keeping you from kissing me, we are in serious trouble," Ziva informed him breathlessly.

He grinned and hugged her to him affectionately, then they left the room.

They walked down the hall for a few moments in companionable silence.

"You do realize that was you back there _not '_screwing up,' yes?" Ziva asked him in a casual tone, using her fingers in the air as quotation marks.

Gibbs was nothing if not quick and realized she was referring to his warning last night that he might make mistakes handling this new intimacy between them while on the job.

"Huh," he considered, gazing straight ahead as she was. "Whadya know?"

She glanced over at him. He looked so inordinately pleased with himself that she had to chuckle out loud. A few more steps had them back at their desks and back to work. They ignored the curious looks from Tony and Tim.

A few hours later, Gibbs realized Dearing had likely planted a bomb in Vance's SUV that was currently parked right outside the building. Gibbs and Jonathan Cole ran to the vehicle to attempt the impossible, while Tony and Ziva immediately began assisting with evacuating the building. In a move they would all appreciate later, McGee downloaded the information they had on Dearing to a flashdrive.

Abby was still in her lab, but her windows were dangerously close to the SUV. Jonathon sent Gibbs to get her out of harm's way and he couldn't help but go. He arrived in the lab just in the nick of time and they flew to the floor as the bomb exploded, sending glass everywhere.

Once they could stand, Gibbs pulled Abby from the lab with him. There were too many combustible materials in there for her to stay. They were a little bruised and would find bits of glass on themselves for days, but they were safe. His world now focused on one mission.

_Find Ziva_.

Gibbs ran from the lab, up the stairs, through the chaos brought on by an evacuation that had been interrupted by an explosion, pulling Abby behind him.

_Ziva._

Where the hell was she? He was not a man given to prayer, but he found himself begging the heavens that she had gotten out before the bomb had detonated.

Gibbs and Abby arrived in the squadroom and found McGee trying unsuccessfully to get up from the floor. They immediately stooped beside him and helped him sit up, relieved to find that he was largely all right. He was badly shaken up and had several little cuts on his face courtesy of the flying glass from the large windows that had blown out, but, other than that, he seemed fine.

"McGee – where's Ziva? And DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked urgently.

"Don't know, Boss," Tim responded slowly, holding his head. "The last time I saw them, they were headed down the hallway making sure people got out."

"Abbs, stay with him until you can get him out of here," Gibbs ordered, striding away to look for the rest of his team … for Ziva.

There was a whooshing sound in his ears that dulled the sounds around him. _Ziva_. The enormity of the situation over-rode his usual control and his feelings clawed to the surface.

Surely he couldn't have lost her before he'd really found her - ?

With the clarity that is sometimes born of desperation, Gibbs knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted the chance to see what this was between Ziva and him, Rule 12 be damned. He didn't have all the answers, but knew he wanted to ask the questions, explore the possibilities.

He just needed the chance to do it.

Most people were out of the building now and the fire crews were moving in. He pulled out his phone and called Ziva. After several rings, the call went to voice mail.

For what seemed like an eternity, he kept moving … kept looking … kept calling. Contrary to his directive, Abby and McGee joined him in the search, equally worried about their friends.

Inside the elevator, Ziva and Tony gingerly sat up after the shaking stopped. Ziva cautiously stretched her hand up to try the buttons; unsurprisingly, none of them worked. They knew the car had fallen some with the blast, but had no way of knowing how far or if it would suddenly fall further.

Tony had struck his head really hard on the wall of the elevator when he'd fallen and every time he tried to stand, he nearly fell over from dizziness. A few pieces of the ceiling had landed on Ziva's back and left shoulder undoubtedly leaving bruises, but, otherwise, she wasn't hurt.

Suddenly, she was seized with panic. _Jethro - !_ He and Cole had been headed to the SUV which is surely where the blast originated. _Please let him be all right. Please._ She murmured it over and over in her head, hoping that was enough to make it true.

Sitting beside Tony, she pulled out her phone to try to call him, but was upset to find she had no signal.

Needing to do something, Ziva stood and began beating on the doors, yelling for help. Unbeknownst to her, the doors were mainly between floors so the sound was too muffled to carry far.

Suddenly, her phone rang. _Gibbs. _She answered immediately.

"Jethro. We are-" Ziva stopped talking as she realized she was talking to dead air. Looking at her phone, she cursed when she saw she had no signal again.

Tony gave her a bewildered look. Maybe he'd hit his head even harder than he thought. _Jethro_?

Ziva moved around slowly and carefully in the metal box holding her phone in the air, trying to get some kind of signal again. Thanks to the hole in the ceiling, she was eventually able to get one bar and called Gibbs.

"Ziva!" he answered urgently. "Where are you?"

"…vator…" was the only thing he heard, then the call dropped and he couldn't get it back. He knew where they were, though, and yelled for a rescue crew as he ran to the elevator.

He pushed the button futilely; the firemen with him used a tool to pry open the doors. The car was sitting below them, trapped between two floors. Gibbs, Abby, McGee and the fire crew ran down to the next floor and quickly pried open the doors on that level. They could now see the floor of the car hanging a few feet up as if in midair, as well as its occupants.

Ziva insisted they get Tony out first so she could help steady him from her end, given his head. The rescue workers lifted him gently to the floor, sat him down and began checking him over. One of the crew stood to help Ziva, but Gibbs stopped him.

"I've got her."

Jethro stepped closer to the elevator and reached up for her.

"Ziver," he husked, motioning for her to come closer.

She slowly slid out while he held her legs, then moved his hands to her waist as soon as he could reach it.

Gibbs could finally breathe again, but couldn't really think straight. In fact, all he could think about was holding her. Ignoring the audience around them, he all but jerked her against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

For a second, Ziva froze in shock, her chin resting on his shoulder. Then, the force of his emotions registered with her. It partnered with the powerful relief she felt at knowing he was safe to push everything else from her mind. She stopped thinking about the fact that everyone was looking at them and simply focused on the man who was holding onto her like a lifeline.

She slid her arms around his chest, hands pressing against his back, holding him to her.

"Jethro?" she murmured softly near his ear.

He didn't speak at first.

"Talk to me," she commanded gently.

"Thought …" he started, then stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Drawing a breath, he tried again. "When I couldn't find you, thought …"

_I'd lost you._

Ziva heard the words as clearly in her mind as if he'd said them out loud.

She squeezed him tightly, closing her eyes as a wave of compassion and love for him rolled through her. The man had been through so much in his life … of course he would expect the worst.

She ducked her chin and attempted to lift his face from where it was buried against her hair in an effort to catch his gaze.

"Jethro? Look at me." Her slight smile and her tone were reassuring, soothing, coaxing. "I am right here."

She finally succeeded in finding his eyes with hers.

"Right here," she repeated gently, moved by the trace of fear she saw that hadn't fully faded into relief. She lifted her fingertips lovingly to his cheek, stroking his face oh-so-lightly.

He leaned his forehead against hers and moved his hands to wrap them around her neck, thumbs smoothing along her jaw.

"I was worried about you, too," she whispered past the lump of emotion in her throat. "You were going to the truck."

Her stomach clenched at the thought.

"Was there – Cole sent me to get Abby while he handled the bomb." He paused. "He couldn't have made it."

Ziva closed her eyes at the bleakness of his tone.

"And Abby?" she asked urgently.

"She's okay," he responded. "I got her."

"Thank God," Ziva breathed, "That is what saved you both. Are you all right?"

Ziva ran her hands over him lightly as if to reassure herself that he was.

"Am now," he affirmed quietly. He finally relaxed and a ghost of his characteristic smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The tenderness between them was impossible to miss.

She smiled for him and, after a moment, turned her head to lay her cheek against his shoulder, hugging him closely. Her gaze landed on three shocked co-workers.

Oh, boy.

"Um, Jethro?" she murmured.

"Yeah?" he released on a breath.

"We might have to figure out what to say to the others sooner than later," she informed him softly.

He leaned away from her a little and looked over at Abby, Tony and McGee. All three literally had their mouths hanging open in shock.

Oh.

Strangely, he wasn't worried or uncomfortable in the least that circumstances had conspired to bring his feelings to the surface - in front of the team, no less. In fact, he felt … lighter, about all of it.

"Come on," he said to the group. "Need to get out of here."

He took Ziva's hand because he wanted to and there was no reason not to now.

The next few weeks would be filled with the sort of controlled chaos that would bring the entire team to the brink of physical and mental exhaustion. They assisted with the rescue and recovery process at NCIS, remembered those who hadn't survived the bombing, salvaged what they could, created makeshift work spaces, and continued their search to locate Dearing.

Not one of them was ready for another shock to rock their world following that blast, but it came anyway.

The whole team was nearly thrown into a tailspin when Gibbs received the call from Palmer with the alarming news of Ducky's heart attack. Fortunately, his condition had been quickly stabilized and he was doing as well as could be expected.

Gibbs put Vance on the task of locating a Navy medic flight that could bring the ME to Bethesda as soon as he was cleared for travel by the doctors in Florida and before long Ducky was back among them. Given that they didn't have much in the way of new leads to follow just yet, Gibbs made sure to spend at least part of each night with his old friend at the hospital.

He was grateful and touched when Ziva arrived unannounced the first night, hoping to keep vigil over Ducky with him, even for a while. The hesitant look on her face as she waited somewhat nervously in the doorway faded into a glowing smile when he unreservedly held out his hand to her in welcome.

With the demands of work, they had barely gotten any sleep over the last few days and had not been together like this at all since he'd shown up on her doorstep on that fateful night. He wanted her with him too much to send her home to her own bed, and he actually managed to get some rest with her comforting presence beside him.

Ducky had been asleep when she'd arrived silently, and so was astonished to awaken early the next morning to find Ziva curled up on the couch sleeping against Jethro's chest as he sprawled half on – half off the short sofa. His legs were too long to completely stretch out on the furniture, so he had as much of himself as possible on the couch, his legs extended, his feet on the floor.

Slipping on his glasses, Ducky contemplated the couple, absorbing the easy manner in which they held each other, the way they seemed to fit together like two halves of a whole. Feeling eyes on him, Gibbs slowly blinked open his eyes, pressing against them with his thumb and fingers. Automatically, he looked toward the hospital bed and found bright eyes sparkling at him behind those round lenses.

"Either I have entered an alternate state of consciousness through all this or you have something to tell me," Ducky suggested quietly with a meaningful glance toward Ziva.

Gibbs' half-smile tugged at his mouth and he dropped a soft kiss to Ziva's hair.

"Still trying to figure it out myself, Duck," he admitted in a low voice, "but … feels good."

There was a pause in the conversation, but not an uncomfortable one.

"Well, I must say that this is unexpected and it might not be without its complications, but you already look as though you belong together," Ducky offered softly.

Gibbs buried a genuine smile against the dark hair resting just under his chin.

Ziva had started to wake when she felt Jethro begin to move, but had stayed completely still, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Now she started to move, alerting the men that she was no longer asleep.

"Good morning, Ducky," Ziva said with a small smile after opening her eyes. "I hope you do not mind finding me here."

"Not at all, my dear," he assured her with a twinkle in his eye. "Quite the contrary, in fact."

Ziva tilted her head to look up at Jethro. His easy smile, the gentle touch as he smoothed his hand over her hair and the warmth in those mesmerizing blue eyes calmed the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach over how he might be with her in front of Ducky, now that the man was awake.

The patient was released after a few days and Abby organized them into shifts to stay with him at his home. They would each spend one week during non-working hours, then she would decide if more time was necessary. The normally affable Scot tried to protest that it wasn't necessary, but there was no dissuading the usually-bouncy-now-worried Goth. When Ducky realized that looking after him was as much for them as it was for him, he accepted with a gracious thank you.

Everyone had become aware that Ziva was staying with Gibbs in Ducky's hospital room unless she was needed at work. There had been very little time to talk, so her three closest friends cornered her one evening after Gibbs had left for Bethesda for what Abby called a "mini-intervention." From what Ziva could tell, the objective was to get her to spill her guts about what was going on between her and Gibbs and what the deal was with him and Dr. Ryan.

And because they _were_ her closest friends and because all of their lives affected one another's to some degree, she gave them a highly edited version of what had transpired at her apartment and all that had happened with the psychologist. She shared that it seemed she and Gibbs had feelings for one another that went beyond friendship and they were going to take it slowly, but try to figure out what that meant for them.

Abby, Tony and Tim couldn't deny they'd been astounded by this turn of events and admitted that things might feel weird now and then, but the bottom line was they wanted nothing but happiness for both Gibbs and Ziva, no matter what that looked like.

"No one should be alone forever," Tony said quietly, looking at Ziva. "Something about you two just kinda fits. Maybe you're supposed to be not alone, together."

Ziva had to blink back moisture in her eyes. Going up on tip-toe, she placed a very soft kiss on her partner's cheek.

"Thank you, Tony," she husked. "I hope that you are right."

Then he moved them from the heartfelt to the humorous with an offer to arrange a memorial service for Rule 12. They all shared a chuckle that put them right back in their usual effortless camaraderie.

The day before Ducky's release, Abby gathered them all at Gibbs' house to discuss her proposed schedule for Operation Ducky over beer and pizza. In an adorably awkward manner, she asked Ziva and Gibbs if she should schedule them together or give them each their own week.

"You can give us each a week, Abby," Ziva informed her lightly. "We are not joined at the hip."

Jethro was standing right behind her with a hand on her aforementioned hip. The team had gotten used to these small displays of the additional level of closeness developing between Gibbs and Ziva. Mostly.

He bent his head and breathed one word for her ears only.

"Yet."

Ziva couldn't help the way her stomach dropped or the warm moisture that pooled at her center at his word, his tone. She turned her head to toss him the ghost of a grin, her eyes saying she couldn't wait. The squeeze of her hip said he got the message – and couldn't either.

Over the next few weeks, the team continued to pursue Dearing with every resource and ounce of energy they had. On the nights they actually left NCIS at the same time, Gibbs and Ziva found themselves sleeping together as often as possible, rotating between her couch, his couch and Ducky's couch. There were many nights, of course, when they weren't able to leave work at all except perhaps to run home to grab a shower and a change of clothes. However, the nights they did spend resting in each other's arms gave them some alone time and provided an opportunity for their feelings to slowly deepen and feel … real.

And the kissing that took place on those couches was nothing less than mind-blowing.

It seemed they'd tacitly agreed not to take things beyond heavy petting at this point. Given his request for time, Ziva had clearly volleyed that ball into his court. For his part, Gibbs was determined not to rush that step. He had the sense that it was going to be far more than simply sex and he wanted it to be right, to be special – and his head in the same place as his heart. She deserved nothing less. He was getting there, but the demands of work did not leave much time for introspection – especially when it didn't come naturally.

Taking it slow wasn't always easy, though, especially when he was caught in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness and felt her soft and boneless against him. And when she smiled at him … each morning that she opened her eyes to find him next to her, she smiled like she had everything she could ever want right there. It was all he could do not to devour her in those moments.

Six weeks after the deafening, terrifying _BOOM_ that had reverberated throughout NCIS and beyond, they cornered Dearing on the tarmac of a small airfield. He stood on the steps of a private plane, seemingly unconcerned that Gibbs, Tony and McGee held him at gunpoint while he held nothing but his phone. His reason for that became clear when he called for a barely conscious Dorneget to step out of the plane.

He'd managed to nab the young agent that morning and had strapped him into a vest that held enough C4 to blow them all to kingdom come.

"Go on," Dearing said almost jovially, giving Ned a little push. "Go stand with your friends over there."

Dorneget moved gingerly, doing as he asked, terror in the eyes he raised to Gibbs'.

"Of course, I suppose for you they are more co-workers than friends," Dearing continued snidely. "You have not quite been accepted into their tight little circle, have you?"

Gibbs kept his eyes on Ned, emanating calm and reassurance.

"Last chance, Dearing," Gibbs barked out.

"You are awfully confident given that I hold the trump card," Dearing mused, moving his phone back and forth to make sure he had their attention. Then a light bulb clearly went off in Dearing's mind. "You really think your Mossad girlfriend can take me out from wherever you have her stashed inside that hangar before I press the button that will blow up your agent, taking all of us with him?"

"Former Mossad," Jethro returned with emphasis on the first word. "And I know she can. Ziva?"

"Got it," she said confidently into the earwig he wore.

Dearing opened his mouth, clearly planning to continue his taunting interchange. However, Gibbs was through playing mouse to this particular cat, one who'd left massive pain and destruction in his wake in an attempt to assuage the ache in his own heart over the death of his son. Before the home-grown terrorist could utter another word, Gibbs gave the quiet, decisive order that put an end to this at last.

"Take it."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Dearing dropped to his knees before falling down the steps of the plane, a sniper bullet in the center of his forehead.

"McGee! Phone!" Gibbs commanded.

"On it, Boss," McGee assured him, already in motion to grab the phone where it was falling from Dearing's now-slack fingers. He caught it just before it hit the ground. "Still got the signal jammer on, but I'll remove the battery, too. That should give us another layer of protection."

"Everyone stand back from Agent Dorneget," Ziva urged into their ears. "I am almost there."

Ziva had the most experience in dealing with explosives; it only made sense to let her handle this part, as well. But still …

"DiNozzo!"

"On the phone with the bomb squad right now," Tony informed his boss. "They're on the way."

Gibbs stood right next to Dorneget as Ziva came running up, having left her rifle up in the second level of the hangar where she'd taken up her vantage point.

She pulled out her knife, immediately examining the bomb strapped to the probie agent.

"Are you doing all right, Ned?" she asked softly, bending to get a closer look at the various wire paths. She was not surprised to see that the wires crisscrossed over the plastic buckles that closed the vest so that an attempt to remove it would trigger an explosion. It is what she would have done herself.

"Sure, fine," he responded, too airily. "You know, except for the pounding headache …" He reached a hand cautiously up to touch the bruised bump on the back of his head. "Oh, and the bomb strapped to my chest."

The hint of hysteria creeping into his tone suggested he was starting to lose the battle with staying calm, despite his heroic efforts to do so.

Ziva found his eyes with hers, steadying him.

"I will get you out of this," she promised. "Just hang on a little longer."

"We," Gibbs broke in. Ziva glanced at him, her brow lightly furrowed in question. "_We_ will get him out of this."

"Gibbs, I told everyone to stay back," she reminded him. "That includes you."

"Can't stand over there and just watch you do this," he declared in a low voice, emotion flickering through his eyes. "Don't ask me to."

She looked at him for a long moment, then gave a nod. She wouldn't spend her energy on a futile request. Besides, she would do the same if the situation were reversed.

Ziva returned to her task of determining which wire was connected to the detonator. Despite the fact that the others could hear her, she couldn't stop herself from making a personal observation. Apparently the possibility of dying in the next few minutes had a way of overriding her usual reticence.

"So, Jethro," she began quietly with seeming casualness, eyes on her task. "I could not help but notice that you corrected Dearing on my status with Mossad, but not on his other descriptor."

_Girlfriend._

"Should I have?" he challenged her with a raised eyebrow, looking at her face.

Despite the circumstances, a happy grin played about her lips. The butterflies in her stomach that weren't consumed with fearful fluttering gave a delighted little dance. She spared a warm glance into his eyes.

"Not as far as I am concerned."

Her answer pulled his characteristic grin and a nod of satisfaction from him. She tossed him that wink of hers that always went straight to the center of him.

"Um, guys?" Ned said nervously, drawing their attention. "Sorry to interrupt your moment and I'm really happy for you – woohoo! and all that – but do you think you could continue that conversation _after _you get this vest off me?"

Ziva and Jethro couldn't help the identical small grins on their faces. Then Ziva reassured the young agent.

"Actually, I have been working during our 'moment' and am about to cut this wire." She lightly tapped the one she was talking about and then looked into Ned's eyes calmly. "Are you ready?"

"Are you sure?" he couldn't help but ask.

"As sure as I can be," she answered honestly.

"Okay," Dorneget released on a breath before holding his air in altogether. "Ready."

With a quick, decisive slice, Ziva cut the wire that went to the detonator.

No explosion.

Now everyone could breathe again.

She quickly cut through the other miscellaneous wires, then she and Gibbs worked together to unfasten the buckles so they could cautiously remove the vest. Once he was clear of it, Ned embarrassed himself by fainting, but there wasn't a person among them who could blame him.

"Gibbs!" Ziva called out, but he was already moving to catch the younger man and lower him gently to the ground. McGee quietly called for an ambulance.

Ziva moved the vest carefully as far away as seemed practical. The bomb squad could handle it from there.

The team worked the crime scene quickly and efficiently. In his first official task after returning to work, Ducky came out to remove Dearing's body. It seemed only fitting.

Hours later, Gibbs and Ziva all but collapsed onto her couch for some much-needed rest.

"Good work today," he congratulated her exhaustedly, dropping a kiss to her hair as she settled her cheek against his chest.

"Thank you," she responded softly. "I guess there are still times when my particular skill set comes in handy."

He didn't miss the faint shadow underlying her tone. As she'd become more than the Mossad agent she had been, she sometimes wondered if she was still judged on her past and found … less than desirable. After all, there were moments when she judged herself that way.

He tugged gently at her hair until her head was tilted far enough back that he could dip his chin and see her face.

"Your skill set is always handy," he said firmly, looking into her eyes. Then his took on a decidedly flirtatious twinkle. "And, it's hot."

His sexy murmur curled through her, warming her to the bone. A seductive curve stole across her lips. Her teasing response pulled a grin from him before she stretched up to kiss it right off his delectable mouth.

"Well. Woohoo and all that."


	4. Fire

_A/N:__ This comes with a shout-out to my dear iyimgrace for asking for this installment, for saying exactly what I needed to hear when it was getting longer than I'd expected it to be (go figure :p) & for the terrific avatar I am now using. Yes, I put Ziva in that dress in this chapter. :) HUGE HUGS to you, my friend!_

_Here's a shout also to brook who never signs in, but has recently been working her way through my stories. Thanks for the detailed, delightfully positive reviews of my Zibbs fics. :o)  
_

_I am woefully behind on responding to reviews for the last chapter and I am sorry about that. RL has seriously cut into my time in cyber world lately. I will keep getting to them as it is important to me to do so; __in the meantime_, please know that every review, favorite and alert is GREATLY appreciated.  


_Turns out there will be one more chapter to this one (I think just one - perhaps I should stop guessing ... !), then expect me to get back to "Waves of Grace." I was hoping to update that today as it is Father's Day in the US, but I do not believe that will happen.  
_

_Enjoy and thanks for reading! =)  
_

* * *

Gibbs stood on the beach staring out over the Atlantic Ocean. The only sounds to be heard were the crashing of the waves and the occasional caw of a gull as it swooped over the water. No one else was around. He might have been the only person on the planet; it seemed he was that alone. Unbidden, he found his thoughts drifting over the past nearly-three weeks.

_Flashback_

Once they had the Dearing case put to bed, which included ensuring that someone was tasked with the responsibility of making sure all the faulty wiring that had proven to be a weak spot for the Navy was replaced, Gibbs reminded Ziva of his idea that they take some time for themselves, just the two of them. The manner in which Ziva jumped on him and nearly squeezed the breath out of him told him all he needed to know about her feelings on that idea.

Given the area in which they lived, he asked if she'd like to go with mountains or the beach and she promptly picked beach for this time. She blushed as she realized she was implying there would be a next time where they could go to the mountains and started to stammer out a qualifying remark. He effectively put an end to that by kissing her brainless. Once he lifted his head, he softly agreed that the mountains would be great for "next time." She buried a shy, happy smile against his throat and hugged him tightly.

He left the arrangements for where to stay up to her and before long she'd found a condo right on the ocean.

Breaking the news to Vance that they would be gone at the same time because they were going on vacation together was a little nerve-wracking for Ziva, but Jethro was calm as could be. He had no intention of allowing the director to dictate his personal life – or split up his team. Vance questioned whether or not this was a good idea, but admitted he'd heard rumors over the past few weeks and nothing had seemed negatively affected as yet.

"Thought you had a rule about that, though, Gibbs," Vance challenged with a slight smirk.

Jethro gave him a steady stare, then deadpanned, "Broken most of your rules by now, Leon; thought I'd try breaking one of my own."

Ziva released a very unladylike snort which caused both men to grin.

"I'll start thinking of a backup plan in case you screw this up, Agent Gibbs," Vance advised lightly as the pair of agents started for the door.

"You do that, Director," Jethro said over his shoulder. "But you won't need it."

The certainty in his tone made Ziva's heart smile.

Gibbs had every intention of putting aside everything about work while they were gone and set the tone for that from the moment he picked her up on a Saturday morning a couple of weeks after her unerring shot had put Dearing on a slab in autopsy. Gibbs went up to her apartment to help her with her bag. When they came down to the street, he grinned when her mouth fell open in stunned surprise.

Instead of his silver truck, he was driving a deep royal metallic blue Mustang convertible that he'd rented for the week. She lifted her gaze from the blue of the car to the blue of his eyes, questioning him silently.

"Nothing goes better with a beautiful woman and the beach than a convertible," he pointed out, his eyes twinkling.

Her delighted laugh danced on the air and she stretched up on tip-toe to plant a light kiss on his lips as he held open her door so she could slide into the car.

A couple hours later they arrived at their destination. After checking in, they found their condo with minimal fuss. The front door opened onto a fairly large open room that started with a kitchen and flowed into a living room that featured a set of sliding glass doors that looked out over the beach and a magnificent view of the ocean.

Along the right was one bedroom, a bathroom, a utility closet that included a washer and dryer, and then a larger bedroom with an attached bath that also had a set of glass doors that provided a view of the beach. A patio ran the length of the living room and master bedroom. It held a small table with a couple of chairs, as well as two chaise lounges. They had their own wooden walkway that led out to the beach.

Ziva poked her head excitedly in every room, then stepped out onto the patio to absorb the sound and smells from the ocean. Jethro followed at a slightly more sedate pace, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind once he joined her outside.

"Two bedrooms?" he asked curiously, his lips against her hair.

Ziva shrugged lightly.

"I was not sure what you preferred or if you even knew yourself yet," she admitted perceptively. "So, I just decided to cover all the bases with two beds and a couch."

He could hear the good humor in her voice when she referred to the couch and grinned inwardly.

"What's your preference?" he asked as he turned her to face him, already knowing his. In a bed. With her. Naked.

She smiled unreservedly. "I would like to sleep next to you, though I am flexible as to whether that is in a bed or on the couch."

He knew that was code for whether they made love or simply slept next to each other, as they'd often done over the last few weeks.

"Ziva –" he began, searching for the right words to give voice to his thoughts and feelings – never his strong point.

She gently laid a finger over his lips, effectively stopping him.

"There is no rush, Jethro," she pointed out softly. "Surprise me."

Then she smoothed her fingers over his cheek and pulled his mouth down to hers for a kiss. She eased him into it, a nice, slow slide that gained heat as it spun out.

They both needed a moment to find their equilibrium once she allowed him to lift his head. Laying her head on his shoulder, she tucked her nose against his throat and held onto him as his hands slid sensuously up and down her back as though memorizing the feel of every delicious inch of her.

After exploring the beach, they walked into the town where they were staying to get the lay of the land and buy a few groceries. Given that they had a kitchen, they decided to eat breakfast in, play lunch by ear and probably try a few of the many restaurants most nights for dinner.

With the demands of the Dearing case and the exhaustion that followed, they'd only had one "official" dinner date so far which had taken place last week, though they had spent a lot of time together. After going out to dinner tonight at one of the nicer restaurants for their second authentic date, they walked to the local pier where others were gathering to watch the sunset over the water.

There was a festive air to the small crowd, enhanced by the entertainment provided by a juggler and an acrobat. A lone guitar player added to the merriment. There were a handful of local artists with their wares on display, ranging from paintings to pottery to jewelry. One group of kids was mesmerized by a magician, but Gibbs couldn't take his eyes off his date. He was standing behind her, hands braced on the wooden railing along the edge of the dock. As though feeling his gaze, Ziva glanced up and back at him with an intimate curve to her lips and melted a little more against him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

His pulse jumped and his body hardened a little. Bending his head, he nuzzled against her neck, inhaling her scent. A low noise escaped her throat, stirring him further.

"Have I mentioned that you look beautiful tonight?" he murmured against her skin, smoothing the fingers of one hand along her mostly-bare shoulder.

She was wearing a different little black dress tonight, one that dipped into a V between her breasts. A thin strap of brown satin went over each shoulder to hold it up, then ran just under her breasts before criss-crossing high on her waist. The skirt was not too narrow, but not full and came to just above her knees. Her only jewelry consisted of large gold hoop earrings and her Star of David pendant.

"I believe you mentioned it earlier," she responded in a sultry voice, "but certainly feel free to say it as often as you like."

He could hear the teasing smirk in her voice and grinned against her shoulder before pressing a small kiss against it.

In comfortable silence, they watched the sun paint the sky in pastel to brilliant colors before dipping below the horizon. After absorbing the natural beauty, they strolled back to their rooms in the darkening evening, his arm slung around her shoulders, her arm curved around his waist.

Once in their condo, Ziva pressed a kiss to his mouth and said she was going to take a shower. She noticed he'd placed both their bags in the master bedroom which she took as a hopeful sign that they'd be sharing the room. She turned on a low light, pulled some things from her suitcase and went into the attached bath.

After showering, she smoothed a lotion over her skin that was a sensual mix of roses, orchids and sandalwood before using her fingers to comb through her long, wet hair. She sifted it through her fingers until it had mostly air-dried into a curtain of gentle waves as opposed to scrunching it into curls or blow-drying it out straight.

Her heart rate kicked up as she tugged on a pair of lacy, silky white panties and then reached for the white satin slip of a nightie she'd chosen for tonight, enjoying the decadent feel of the smooth material as it skimmed over her. The top scooped low revealing the tantalizing swell of her breasts. There was a pretty row of lace along the bottom that followed the small V cut into both sides at the hem. She topped off the ensemble with the matching short robe which was trimmed in the same lace along all the edges.

Every other night that they'd slept together, she'd worn soft yoga pants and a close-fitting tank or camisole.

Not tonight.

With a last glance in the mirror, she approved of the look and spared a hope that Jethro would, too. Just because she had no intention of pushing the issue of when they first made love didn't mean she wasn't going to be prepared for anything - or that she wasn't hoping that it would be tonight.

She turned down the bed invitingly and then walked into the living room. The sounds of the shower in the other bathroom gave away Gibbs' location. She poured a small glass of sweet red wine and took it with her as she stepped out onto the patio. Leaning one shoulder against the post that stood at the front center of the concrete, she sipped her wine and stared out at the ocean. There was enough moonlight that she could just make out the waves as they crashed upon the sand. She felt relaxed and happy, with a little hum of excitement running through her veins.

"Beautiful," came a low husky voice from the glass door to the bedroom.

"It is," she agreed with a smile, turning her head to look back at him. She felt heat pool at her center as she took in his glittering blue eyes and casual dress. Like that first night at her apartment – and many other nights since – he was simply wearing a white t-shirt and lightweight sweats. Why that should look so damn sexy on him she had no idea, but, boy, did it ever.

"Meant you," he clarified in that same voice that skittered up her spine.

The curve to her lips warmed. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You wear that for me?" he asked, leaning as seemingly-nonchalantly against the door frame as she was against the post. In reality, a delicious tension was setting in as his body started to harden at the mere sight of her.

She nodded, finishing off her wine. "And for me."

She bent slightly to sit the empty glass on the table, then leaned back against the post in what could only be described as a sultry pose. Her right knee was bent, her hips tilted out toward him a bit. One arm reached back near her thigh to steady herself against the narrow piece of wood, which had the added benefit of thrusting her breasts out slightly. The silky robe slipped off one shoulder, making him swallow hard as his blood heated even more.

"But you weren't hoping we'd end up in the same bed together?" he asked with just a hint of teasing challenge, the hunger in his eyes taking any possible sting out of the words.

A provocative smile curved her lips.

"I said I was flexible about our sleeping arrangements," she corrected him lightly, "and I am. That does not mean, however, that I was not hoping for a certain outcome."

Satisfaction flared in those glittering blue eyes that was impossible to miss.

"Then what're you doing way over there?" he husked.

"Waiting for you," she responded, her tone and the emotion in her eyes telling him she meant more than just in this moment.

His gaze darkened and he slowly stepped through the door and toward her. With every step he took, her heart raced a little faster.

When he was close enough that she could feel his body heat calling to her, he stopped. Settling his hands heavily on her hips, he urged her body against his. A low hum of satisfaction left her throat as she slid her arms slowly up his chest to clasp her hands behind his neck. His head bent toward hers and she closed her eyes to better absorb the sensations he was already creating inside her.

Their lips met, softly at first. Then, the heat built as the pressure increased and her mouth opened beneath his, welcoming him inside. The moan he couldn't hold back fired her blood and she pressed against him even more closely. The kiss seemed to go on and on. Her pulse kicked up as he slid his mouth slowly from her lips along her jaw and down her throat to that spot that never failed to send a _zing_ of awareness through her.

"Make love with me," he ordered gently against her skin.

Her breath caught in an audible gasp at hearing the words out loud.

"Yes," she sighed, running her fingers into that silvering hair that she found oh-so-attractive and urging his mouth back to hers.

Their coming together was slow and easy, not impulsive and rushed as it might have been at any other time. Relaxed, she slid into the kiss, no doubts, no nerves except the fervent hope on the outskirts of her consciousness that she would satisfy him in every way, that he would find pleasure in her. She had no idea that her soon-to-be lover was hoping for exactly the same in reverse.

Gibbs lifted her until her legs could wrap around his waist, his hands settling under her bottom to hold her to him. He managed to walk them into the bedroom without releasing her mouth or losing his grip on her. He stopped long enough for her to search blindly with one hand to close the glass door behind them, then stepped to the nearby dresser to sit her down at waist level, keeping her pressed against him.

He raised his head to look at her, taking immense satisfaction in her slightly swollen red lips and brown eyes already slumberous with desire. Without hurry, he pushed the robe from her shoulders. Watching more of her dusky skin appear in the mirror behind her only made the moment that much more erotic.

When his hands roamed down over her shoulders, the sides of her breasts and beyond, the thrill of being with him began to beat inside her in a long, steady pulse.

For just a moment, he looked down at her as though he'd never seen her before. Then his gaze lifted to hers again and there was that connection that was undeniably between them … and the conscious recognition that perhaps he'd simply been waiting for her, too, all this time.

He drew her against him again and the feel of his hands against her skin, warm against slightly cooler, was thrilling beyond description for them both.

Ziva tugged his t-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, humming her appreciation as she ran her hands over his handsome bare chest and through the sexy smattering of salt and pepper hair she found there. She kissed his throat and then scraped the skin in just the right spot with her teeth. His breath caught and she smiled a siren's smile.

"You are sensitive there," she murmured delightedly against his neck, tracing the area with the tip of her tongue. She grinned inwardly as he struggled to swallow.

"Apparently," he managed.

Her fingers searched out one of his nipples, taking immense satisfaction in the way it hardened further under her hand. "And here."

He practically growled his agreement as he nipped her shoulder, nudging the thin spaghetti strap until it fell onto her upper arm.

"I am sensitive there, too," she whispered provocatively into his ear, sexy teasing coming through her suggestion.

He obligingly slid his hands to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing across her own taunt nipples.

"You think I wouldn't remember that?" he asked in a low tone that had a gush of wetness soaking her panties. He'd discovered more than once on her couch or his that she was very responsive to him when he caressed the gentle curves of her chest.

She moaned before admitting, "I was certainly hoping you would."

She instinctively squeezed her legs even more tightly around him, pressing her wet center against his hard one. She was so moist, he could feel it through his pants.

"You want me," he husked into her ear before brushing the shell with his lips, his hands still molding her breasts gently.

"So much," she breathed out, pulling his mouth back to hers. After she'd kissed him senseless, she tilted her pelvis against his and murmured against his lips, "You want me back."

"Oh, yeah," he agreed with feeling.

She buried her face against his throat, grateful beyond words.

"If I think about it too much, I cannot figure out why," she revealed in an emotional whisper.

"Then stop thinking," he growled against her ear. "And have you looked in a mirror lately?"

She let out a chuckle that was unexpectedly tearful. The powerful emotions sweeping through her threatened to overcome her famous self-control.

"Well, thank you for that," she husked, allowing her head to fall back just enough to smile at him. Blinking back the moisture that shone like diamonds in her lovely brown eyes, she raised a hand to stroke his cheek tenderly. "But there is more to really being with someone than just looks, and for me this is not … casual … it is …" Her gaze flicked away as her words trailed off.

"More than that," he filled in with certainty, moving one hand to gently squeeze her hip and the other to cup her face. "Maybe even everything."

She looked back at him a little cautiously, hope brimming in her eyes. He felt a pang of regret that he'd put her in this place where she couldn't be completely certain of him yet. She'd been nothing but open and patient and loving with him over the last few weeks, even in the moments when he sensed she was struggling to keep some semblance of self-protection in place, never pressing him for more than what he gave her. After years of distancing himself from his deepest emotions, he was still working himself toward all the words she deserved, but he didn't want her thinking he wasn't in this all the way. He was and his eyes communicated that very effectively.

"For you, too?" she whispered, wishing she didn't feel the need for some reassurance.

His smile warmed her heart.

"For me, too." There was no room for doubt in his voice.

Joy turned her eyes to brilliant before she buried a thrilled smile against his chest, tightening her silky arms about his neck. He hugged her back and pressed a kiss to her temple. They held each other affectionately, just allowing this moment of emotional connection to wash over them. And then, because she loved him, because this _was_ more than just sex, because their feelings for each other had eclipsed the physical need that had held sway just minutes ago, she was moved to honesty.

"I would not blame you if you wanted someone with … not so many shadows," she revealed haltingly in a low voice.

"Sounds kinda boring," he pointed out lightly, though deep and meaningful sentiment ran through his touch as he held her close. He laid his cheek on her hair. "Besides, my shadows like your shadows."

She felt him smile against her head and a sound that was somewhere between a happy chuckle and a sob escaped her throat. Something inside her relaxed. Though there wasn't a breath of air between them, she attempted to snuggle in more closely.

"I am so glad," she whispered emotionally.

_I love you_ she added, but only in her mind.

He lifted his head and placed a hand under her chin to tilt her face up to his. Looking into her eyes, he smiled, pleased when she smiled back. Then his gaze slowly darkened once more with passion and he took her mouth ... and the desire roared back with a vengeance.

In the space of a few heartbeats, her hands were buried in his hair as his wandered over her, stirring them both. The kiss went deep, tugging them both further under the tide of desire.

Of their own volition, his hands began raising the satin confection she was wearing up over her hips, up over her breasts. Her breath hitched, then came faster against his lips. Instinctively, she pulled back a little and lifted her arms so he could pull it up over her head, dropping it silently onto the dresser beside her.

His heart pounding, he ran his eyes, his hands over her. He had never seen her this close to naked before and she was so gorgeous, he had to close his eyes for a moment to get a firm hold on his control. He opened them to the sight of her bare back in the mirror, the curtain of dark silk that was her hair flowing down it, which took his breath away. And when he watched his hands trace down her spine, watched her lean in to kiss his throat, to find that spot again on his neck and suck on it gently, his need clawed like a beast inside him to be released.

He picked her back up and walked to the bed, reveling in the kisses she was pressing to every part of him she could reach. He laid her down on the sheets, gazing over her as he stood between her bent knees and quickly shucked off his sweats.

Her breath caught as all of him was revealed to her for the first time. He was, quite simply, beautiful … tall, strong and stunningly attractive. His erection was long and thick and curved slightly toward his belly. Her eyes slowly traveled from there to follow the thin trail of hair that led up to curl across his chest appealingly. She continued her visual perusal, moving up to capture his gaze with hers.

"Mmmm …" she hummed out, making no move to hide her appreciation.

His eyes burned with passion for her, only for her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist once more and rubbed her satin-clad center up and down his erection, pleasuring them both. He ran his hands over her thighs, behind her knees, under her bottom until she couldn't take it any longer.

"Take off my panties," she husked seductively, perhaps the most erotic thing he'd ever heard.

She placed her feet back on the bed, knees bent, silently inviting him to do as she asked. He couldn't help but comply.

He tugged the lacy underwear down her legs and off, dropping them to the floor. Nothing on earth could have moved him to take his eyes from her.

She moaned and wrapped her legs back around him, rubbing her center against his once more, this time with nothing between her wetness and his hardness. Her back arched in pleasure and her teeth captured her bottom lip as he released a guttural sound that went straight to her core. Her fingers reflexively gripped the sheets as though attempting to ground herself.

His hands caressed her once more, everywhere he could reach. He only teased the juncture between her thighs, but her mouth opened and she cried out. She wanted more of him touching her and was not above pleading. She tried a more assertive approach first.

Reaching down, she laced her fingers with his and then brought her arms backward to rest on the mattress, her hands up by her ears. She achieved the desired effect of pulling him down to her. He kept his arms a little stiff so as not to put his full weight on her.

"Well, hi," he murmured in a sexy drawl as his face hovered just above hers.

"Hi back," she returned, her eyes twinkling with desire and humor. He lifted a brow at her, asking what she was up to. She explained, "I thought you were too far away up there."

"You were right," he murmured with his characteristic smile tugging at his lips. He loved the alluring chuckle that escaped her at his admission.

He nuzzled her throat before working his way back up to her mouth. As he kissed her, she freed her hands from his to urge him down onto her by pressing them into his back, running her hands over the long, delicious expanse of skin. She moaned into his mouth as she finally felt all the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

Sliding himself slightly to the side, he shifted them on the bed so her head was on a pillow and his legs weren't hanging off the edge. He moved his hands over every inch of her, delighting in the silkiness of her skin. It still surprised him how soft she was. So much about her was so strong that it was easy to miss the soft.

There was a softness to her heart, as well, though she'd probably deny it. He'd always known it, but … he needed to pay more attention to those soft places. All of them.

"Love how you feel," he murmured, "your skin, your mouth … how what you're feeling inside shows in your eyes … how I'm the only one you don't always guard against that with."

"I love the feel of you, too," she whispered achingly, her hands learning him, absorbing him through her skin. "The look of you. The way you look at me."

"How do I look at you?" he asked indulgently, brushing his lips over her face, lingering at her delectable mouth before taking the very tip of his tongue seductively down her throat, reveling in the moan she couldn't hold back.

"Like you want me," she nearly panted, tilting her head in silent invitation for him to continue his sensual exploration of her neck.

"I do," he intoned in that low voice that made her stomach clench.

"And like you are happy," she shared in an awed whisper, running her fingers through his hair, over his neck, holding him to her.

He raised his head to look at her. The depth of emotion in his eyes took her breath away.

"I am," he promised, nothing but truth in his gaze, in his tone.

She melted and he could see it. His characteristic half-smile met her sweet one, their lips brushing, rubbing, lightly tugging.

Painstakingly, he worked his way down from her mouth to her breasts where he took his time kissing, licking, suckling every inch of her supple curves. She made a sexy noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a mew, a sound of unmistakable need that went straight to his groin.

Vowing to himself to spend more time there later, he slowly edged his way down to the nest of curls between her thighs. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer before he had to be balls-deep inside her and he wanted to taste her first.

She sobbed out his name as his tongue traced her slit, then delved between her folds to swirl through her juices, wallowing in the satin heat. When he pushed his tongue inside her, her back arched up off the bed uncontrollably and she grabbed his head with both hands to hold on. Her sexy cries nearly drove him over the edge.

She tugged at him. "Jethro. Please." She didn't care if she was begging; it felt as though she couldn't take another minute without feeling him slide inside her, completing her.

Because he was so close himself after eight weeks of foreplay, he worked his way back up to her mouth, not missing a point along the way. He kissed her deeply and the taste of herself on his lips somehow managed to heighten her desire, which already defied measurement.

He slowly pulled back just slightly from the kiss, their lips clinging, reluctant to part. He smoothed a hand over her cheek, into her hair.

"Ziva," he murmured, a wealth of tender affection bound up in that one word.

She lifted heavy lids to look at him from whiskey-brown eyes that had gone almost black with need.

"I want you," she whispered raggedly, holding onto him desperately. "I need you. Now."

"Want you, need you, too," he assured her in a voice gone husky with emotion, brushing his lips across hers again just because he couldn't help himself.

Rising over her once more, he settled himself between the thighs that she opened in welcome, relishing the weight of him on top of her again.

Her breath caught and then released with a moan as he pushed inside her, sliding into her hot, wet silk. Brown eyes locked on blue, each of them oblivious to everything but the other.

It seemed his heart stopped – a stunning, breathless moment. He held her here, staring down at her in a kind of wonder … enraptured, yet humbled by the mix of desire and devotion in her eyes.

They fit together like two halves of a whole. He filled her. She surrounded him.

Sensations tumbled inside him – her scent, her taste, the rustle of the sheets as she moved with him. Everything about her was so familiar, yet somehow brand new. He burrowed his hands under her upper back, curved his fingers over her shoulders to hold on, pressed his face to her breast. The soft, scented, smooth curves begged his lips to explore once more; he did not ignore the summons. With that noise in her throat that drove him wild, she arched toward him, surrendering to him even as she conquered him heart and soul.

He moved inside her, long, slow strokes that were the most delicious torture. He was swept away by the beauty of her naked, beneath him, encasing him within her. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming.

Then she pulled his mouth to hers again and he decided he didn't care one way or the other as long as it didn't stop.

Gibbs felt the way her heart thudded against his chest, watched the pulse at the base of her throat beat faster and faster as he guided her up, took her higher, as she did the same to him. They moved faster and faster in perfect rhythm, riding the wave of desire that lay between them, had always been between them. On the desperate edge, she curled to him as sensation after sensation crashed through her, and at last, at long last, swept them both into release.

They collapsed together, completely boneless. He didn't have the strength to move off her and she didn't want him to find it. Sprawled together, they both tried to catch their breath as their heart beats gradually slowed.

Eventually, her fingertips began gliding slowly, sensuously over his back, up through his hair, reveling in the feel of him. She had the distinct feeling she'd never get enough of it.

When he finally had the strength, he lifted his head from where it was buried at that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. Looking down at her, he moved his hands from clutching her shoulders to cupping the back of her head.

They shared a tender smile and an even more tender kiss, both of which communicated more than was possible with mere words.

He rolled to the side. Her breath hitched as he slowly pulled out of her, at the slight, warm gush of their combined fluids. Jethro took her with him so she was sprawled across his chest, one leg resting between his, much like they always slept when they were together. Her hair splayed sensuously around them and his left hand smoothed up from her low back to bury itself in the delicious silky weight of it.

Utterly satiated, nothing between them but honest emotion, they drifted off into sleep.


	5. Melting Into You

_A/N: First off, BIG HUGS to those of you who've reached out to me in any way hoping for/asking about an update to this story and "Waves of Grace." I am thrilled and honored that you are that interested in following my fics and please consider this dedicated to you. Will the first person who figures out how writing fan fic can also pay the bills and raise & nurture a family puh-LEASE share the secret? :)_

_I was certain this would be the last chapter to this story, but ... turns out the characters had other ideas. (After I hit over 7,000 words, I figured out it was really two chapters!) So, there will actually be another chapter that really will finish this story. I think. As far as I know right now. *back, bunnies - back I say!* And after that, we're back to "Grace," I swear. Well, unless Ziva and Gibbs have other plans for me. __I'll keep you in the loop. :p __  
_

___I know I still have some reviews that deserve a response. I promise you'll get one; thanks for your patience._

_This is a feel-good chapter that was great fun to write. I hope you enjoy it and that you'll let me know if you do. =)  
_

* * *

The rest of the week passed much like that first day: Fun. Relaxed. Unbelievably erotic. Full of discovery.

Staring out over the water reflecting on the last few days, Gibbs was no less than amazed at the things he'd learned about Ziva this week, even after knowing her all these years.

He'd been reminded that he never knew what language she'd mumble in when she was half asleep, and was always glad when it was English, Spanish or Russian so he could at least try to figure out what she was saying … was even more certain that nothing beat waking up to that _never been happier than this_ smile of hers … discovered that the one morning he woke up to see her on the beach through the open sliding glass door of their bedroom stretching into the yoga she loved as the sun came up over the water was a close second.

That morning, she'd woken before him and the early morning beach and sun had called to her. Ziva loved seeing Gibbs completely relaxed in sleep and didn't want to wake him before he woke up on his own. She managed to silently slip out of bed and into dark gray yoga pants paired with a tight tank and then walked out to the beach just beyond their patio.

It wasn't long before he reached for her, his eyes still closed, to find only empty space beside him. He opened his eyes and looked until he found her. Her movements outdoors were graceful, peaceful and more than a little sexy. He watched until she appeared finished then managed to put a laughingly surprised Ziva over his shoulder and toss her back onto their bed. After all, no sense in letting those warmed up, flexible muscles go to waste.

She certainly had no complaints.

He learned that she couldn't help but move some part of her body whenever she heard any kind of music; that she sometimes wished she'd had the chance to take more than three years of dance when she was a child; that she could outdistance him when they took a run on the beach, though she never did; and that she'd played soccer growing up even longer than she'd taken dance. The day he discovered that, he also learned she was a natural with kids when her guard was down, though she seemed oblivious to that little gem of information.

_Flashback_

One afternoon they walked into town to get ice cream and wandered by a friendly, but spirited game of football – _soccer_ Ziva corrected herself in her head. It was girls against boys, both teams composed of kids of various ages. The guys had two additional players, but the girls seemed to be holding their own. Ziva drifted to a stop to watch for a minute. Given that he was attached to her, Gibbs stopped, too.

The ball suddenly flew off the foot of one of the boys and headed straight at them. Ziva had been standing casually beside Jethro holding his hand, but instinctively reacted. She stepped in front of him protectively and expertly blocked the shot with her knee in such a way that it fell right in front of her so she could stop it under her foot. She looked up to find one of the girls, as it would be their ball now that the boys had kicked it out of bounds. In another skillful move, she did some combination of a kick and a toss with her foot so that the ball flew straight into the hands of the teenager who was clearly making her way over to get it. That young woman wasn't the only one impressed.

"Wanna play?" the girl asked, looking at Ziva with interest. "We're a little outnumbered and your moves rock."

Despite the aviator sunglasses hiding her eyes, Gibbs sensed anticipation in the way her body tensed a little. Then, she shook her head with a small smile.

"You are doing quite well without me," Ziva pointed out approvingly. She then tilted her head up at Jethro with a tender curve to her lips. "Besides …"

She squeezed his hand and everyone knew she was saying no because she didn't want to leave him just standing there. Seized by the urge to see her play, he reached out and gently removed her sunglasses and pulled the small purse she had angled across her body over her head. He hung the glasses on the neckline of his t-shirt and tucked her bag under his arm.

"Go ahead," he ordered with a smile, tilting his head toward the game.

That smile of his widened when her eyes lit up. She stretched up to plant a quick kiss on his lips before kicking off her sandals and heading in to join the game. After a quick round of introductions with her new teammates, they started back up.

She blended right in and he marveled at the ease with which she moved, like it had been yesterday instead of nearly fifteen years since she'd last played. He loved the confident yet clearly competitive manner in which she approached it and smirked whenever she had to gather the short skirt of her sundress in her hands to keep it from flying up a little too high.

"Rebecca – it's time to go," a woman's voice called out after a while.

"Hang on, Mom," the girl who'd invited Ziva to play responded distractedly. "We're tied."

Jethro looked across to see a woman smile indulgently and stand still to watch for a moment, then he returned his eyes to the game.

Ziva had the ball and an open shot at the goal. She knew the other team's goalie expected her to kick it straight in, but she was sure she could place it in one of the upper corners out of his reach. She worked the ball with her feet to line up the shot, then noticed one of the girls slightly behind and to the side of her, watching longingly. She was clearly the youngest of the group and had yet to score a goal. She, too, had an open shot that would likely angle in and go right behind the goalie who was plainly certain the older woman would take the shot. Who wouldn't?

Ziva stared at the girl while never completely stopping her movements with the ball until the girl, Olivia, felt the look and glanced up to meet Ziva's brown eyes with her own chocolate ones. Ziva looked at her meaningfully, then flicked her eyes to the goal. No one but Jethro and Olivia saw the eye movement. Olivia's eyes widened slightly, then she shook her head a little, her eyes communicating _I can't!_

Ziva smiled at her confidently and sent back her own nonverbal message. _Yes, you can._

In a flash, Ziva passed the ball to Olivia who responded on instinct born of experience and made the goal.

Game over.

Girls won.

Olivia's teammates erupted, jumping and shouting with joy. Rebecca picked up her little sister by the waist and swung her around, congratulating her on making the winning goal. Ziva shared in the high-fives, then looked around just in time to see Olivia launch herself at her. Running on her own instincts, Ziva laughingly caught her.

"Thank you," the girl whispered into the older woman's ear as she hugged her fiercely.

"You did it," Ziva pointed out, hugging her back with a gentle smile.

"You helped," Olivia replied determinedly. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"I am not so sure about that," Ziva demurred, "but you are welcome."

She joined in the "good game" comments shared by both the guys and the girls and gracefully accepted more than one, "Wow, nice job!" from the boys who were clearly amazed that someone who could be their mom could play like she had.

She thanked the girls for including her and headed back to her lover who was smiling from ear to ear. He'd enjoyed watching her carefree play and her interaction with the kids, especially the young Olivia.

Ziva held onto his arm as she put on her sandals, then retrieved her sunglasses and purse from him.

Hand in hand they resumed their walk toward the old-fashioned ice cream parlor that had been their original destination.

"Not bad for an old lady," Jethro observed, raising her hand to his lips. His eyes twinkled as he voiced the comment the boys had clearly thought, but left unsaid.

She threw back her head and laughed in a manner that warmed his heart and made it thump a little faster in his chest.

"Thank you," she grinned. Then she glanced up at him. "I began playing when I was much younger than those girls and played all through high school, though my father steadily added other activities that were meant to prepare me for a career in Mossad." A faint shadow moved across her eyes. "By the time I was in college, all of my extra-curricular time was filled with those other things." Then she shook off the memory and bumped her shoulder against him affectionately. "I am glad you encouraged me to join them; it was fun."

She seemed a little surprised to realize that.

"Fun to watch," he admitted, squeezing her hand and enjoying the day even more.

They got to the ice cream shop just as a little boy who couldn't have been more than four or five years old was holding a bowl of ice cream while standing with his back against the heavy glass door, struggling to hold it open for his mother as she balanced an infant carrier on one arm, a diaper bag on the other and a shake in her hand.

The door started to slip and the little boy automatically released his grip on his treat with one hand in an attempt to catch it. He caught the door, but his bowl of ice cream slipped from his other hand to splat on the ground and onto his foot. He looked up at his mother, battling tears.

"Oh, honey," she murmured, sounding compassionate, but maybe a little tired.

"Jethro," Ziva said quietly, pulling on his hand, but he was already moving.

Gibbs pushed open the door to take the weight off the little boy and his mother threw him a look of thanks.

"Mom, my ice cream," the little guy said forlornly, his lower lip trembling slightly. "And these are my favorite shoes – the ones that light up."

He stomped his clean foot to make a row of red lights appear to run along the sole of the black sandal.

"Don't worry, Henry," the woman soothed him. "We can clean your shoe and get more ice cream. Accidents happen." She smiled and put an arm around his shoulders as best she could with all she was carrying. "Thanks for trying to help me."

She looked around for the nearest napkin dispenser only to find Ziva handing her a bunch from a nearby outdoor table.

"Oh - thank you." The woman took them from Ziva, then was clearly trying to decide how to accomplish her goal with all she was holding, while being mindful of the fact that their small group was also blocking the door.

Gibbs crouched down by the young boy, his characteristic smile tugging at the side of his mouth. That smile grew as he read the boy's t-shirt. _My Dad's a Marine ~ Oo-rah!_

"Nice shirt," Jethro commented, nodding at the boy's chest. "Think maybe I could give you a hand with that shoe?"

The boy looked him over as though trying to decide if he could trust the man.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he stated, then looked up at his mother.

"Good rule," Gibbs assured him. "Maybe it'd help if you got to know me a little. My name's Gibbs. Served in the Marines, too."

Henry's eyes widened. "Do you know my dad?" he whispered, clearly in awe.

"Prob'ly not," Jethro admitted. "Been a while since I was in."

"You don't have to-" the woman rushed to say, not wanting to impose.

"I know," Gibbs answered with that smile no woman – and few men - could resist.

"Well, if you're sure," she said somewhat reluctantly, but not unkindly. "I guess I could use some extra hands."

"I'm sure," Jethro said, still with that curve to his mouth.

Despite the wedding ring on her own finger and the obvious chemistry between this man and the young woman accompanying him, the mother's heart rate kicked up a bit at that voice, that smile. She was tired, but she wasn't dead.

She smiled down at her son. "I say it's okay, Henry. It's nice of him to help."

Gibbs tilted his head toward the table where Ziva had grabbed the napkins, silently suggesting the boy take a seat.

In no time, Jethro was efficiently wiping the ice cream from Henry's foot and shoe. The young man's mother began contorting herself in an attempt to pull the wipes out of the diaper bag to finish up the process.

"Here – allow me to help," Ziva offered, holding out her hands, expecting to be handed the diaper bag or the shake or both. Jethro looked up just in time to see her eyes widen in slight shock as the woman placed the baby carrier in her arms with a heartfelt thanks.

Ziva's eyes flew to her lover's for a moment and a flash of _Help! _moved through her eyes. But his smile and that direct, confident blue gaze steadied her as they always did.

Almost in a daze, Ziva sat down in a nearby chair and placed the carrier on her lap so the baby girl inside was facing her. Dark blue eyes looked intently at Ziva's face as though she could see right through to her soul, but she didn't appear startled in the least. Ziva's eyes softened as she admired the little girl.

"_Shalom, ktantonet_," she whispered. "My name is Ziva."

The baby, who Gibbs guessed was about six months old, suddenly smiled and gurgled before reaching both hands out toward Ziva.

Ziva made a delighted sound of her own and steadied the carrier with one hand and allowed the baby to grasp the fingers of her other hand. Jethro could see her all but melting and the sight of them together thawed a place in his heart that he'd thought had been frozen beyond redemption.

"That's Sarah," Henry informed them as his mother bent down to clean the sticky residue off his foot and sandal with the wipes now that Gibbs had most of the ice cream off. Then he studied Ziva as intently as his sister just had, but he was clearly not as quick to trust the unknown woman. "What did you say to her? It wasn't American."

Jethro moved to clean the worst of the ice cream from the sidewalk, hiding an amused smirk. Smart kid.

"Henry!" his mom reprimanded him, clearly embarrassed. "Did your manners melt away with your ice cream?" She turned toward Ziva, still crouched. "I'm so sorry."

"Do not be. He is right in that I was not speaking English," Ziva pointed out with an easy smile, unobtrusively correcting Henry's terminology. She looked at Henry approvingly. "You are very observant and it is good that you look out for your little sister."

He couldn't read it on her face, but Gibbs knew she thought of Ari for a fleeting moment.

"I said 'Hello, little one,'" Ziva informed Henry, "in Hebrew."

"Where's that from?" the little boy asked. Again, his mother looked as if she were about to intervene, but Ziva caught her eye and shook her head slightly, her lips curved.

"It is the language of Israel," Ziva shared, looking at Henry. "That is where I was born."

"Is that far away?" Henry asked.

Ziva nodded.

"What are you doing here?" The inquisitive little boy showed every sign of being an excellent future investigator. Gibbs and Ziva shared a wordless grin that said they were both thinking the same thing.

"Well, _right_ here, I am on vacation." Her eyes twinkled gently at stating what would be the obvious for adults. "My job brought me to Washington, DC a few years ago and then I stayed. In fact, I am an American now, just as I imagine you are." She smiled as the little boy digested that.

"Your sister's name has a Hebrew meaning," Ziva continued, changing the topic in hopes of avoiding any follow-up questions on the job she'd been doing at the time she arrived in the States. "Would you like to hear it?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically as his mother stood up, having finished cleaning him off.

"It means 'princess,'" she revealed.

Henry's eyes lit up. "Hey – that's what my dad calls her!"

He looked up at his mom. "Ya think Dad knows Hebrew?"

She chuckled. "I don't think so, honey."

Henry looked back at Ziva.

"Does my name mean something in Hebrew?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head regretfully. "Not that I know of."

His shoulders slumped just a bit.

"Don't think Gibbs means anything in Hebrew either," Gibbs broke in, catching Henry's eye. "But I _am_ thinking it's time for ice cream. Wanna come with me?"

Henry's eyes lit up. "Can I, Mom?" he begged, looking up at her with big blue eyes that were a perfect foil for his white-blond hair.

She nodded and reached for her purse. "Let me-"

"We've got it," Gibbs said with a smile that only grew warmer when Henry slipped his hand trustingly into the older man's as they walked into the shop, the little boy talking a mile a minute.

The woman smiled at Ziva as she took a seat beside her. "My name is Anne. I'd offer to shake your hand, but yours are pretty full of my daughter." Her eyes had a friendly gleam.

Ziva laughed. "True. It is nice to meet you, Anne."

"You, too," the other woman replied. "Here – I can take her."

Anne reached her hands out, but Ziva stayed her.

"No. I mean …" Ziva stumbled endearingly over her words while reflexively gripping the carrier a little more firmly. "I am quite comfortable."

Then she realized how she must have sounded, being a perfect stranger to this mother.

"Of course, if you would rather –" she rushed to add, suddenly feeling awkward about clearly wanting to keep hold of the baby, a desire she didn't completely understand herself in that moment.

"No, no – I'm fine if you're fine," Anne interrupted her reassuringly. "I don't mean to intrude on your afternoon, but, honestly, I appreciate the help and the company. My husband has been deployed for a while and I can go days without talking to another grown-up. And that young lady is teething, so neither one of us is sleeping too well."

The two women chatted a little until the guys came back. Henry had his brand new bowl of colorful Superman ice cream, while Jethro carried the hot fudge sundae with peanut butter sauce and whipped cream that he and Ziva had planned to share. The little group spontaneously decided to eat their treats right there at the table, enjoying some light conversation.

Henry was in heaven when Gibbs agreed to push him on a tire swing hanging from a tall tree beside the ice cream shop and Ziva was secretly thrilled to learn that she could still hold a baby without dropping her, though she wasn't so sure at first. After all, she'd been a young girl holding some cousin or other the last time she'd held one.

It felt even better than she remembered – wonderful, in fact, she thought wistfully.

After a while, Sarah began to yawn and fuss a little for her nap, so Anne somewhat reluctantly suggested it was time for them to go. Ziva held the baby up in front of her own face and coaxed a last smile out of her before rubbing Sarah's cute little nose with her own, causing the baby to giggle before placing her in her carrier to be strapped in by her mother.

Gibbs had kept one eye on the women and noticed the activity. He brought Henry back over, much to the boy's disappointment. Before they went their separate ways, Henry asked Ziva how to say goodbye in Hebrew. Her eyes twinkled and she beckoned him closer as she crouched down to his eye level.

"It is very tricky," she advised. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"I'm sure," the little boy said confidently.

"_Shalom_," she said.

The confused look on his face was priceless and she grinned. He shook his head.

"Not hello," he reminded her. "Goodbye."

She nodded. "That is what I said – _Shalom_."

When he still looked perplexed, she took pity on him. "We use it for both hello and goodbye," she explained. "It also means 'peace.' It is a very useful word, yes?"

"Cool," he nodded. Then he waved at her. "_Shalom_, Ziva."

"_Shalom_, Henry," she said softly, her brown eyes as warm as her voice.

Henry turned to stare up at Gibbs for a moment before motioning for him to lean down.

"Do _you_ think Marines hug?" Henry whispered in Jethro's ear, shielding his mouth from the women with a cupped hand.

Gibbs heroically bit back a grin.

"This Marine does," he assured the little boy – and found himself on the receiving end of one in a flash.

And Ziva fell a little further as she watched Jethro gather him in affectionately to return the embrace.

With goodbyes all around, the five of them parted company. Ziva and Gibbs grinned as Henry talked excitedly all the way down the street about the two new friends he'd made.

Gibbs threw an arm around her shoulders and she wrapped hers around his waist, tucking her thumb through his belt loop and leaning her head against him. They were quiet as they walked back to their condo, each lost in unknowingly-similar unspoken thoughts, the silence as comfortable as ever between them.


	6. Smoldering

_A/N:__ This chapter comes with a belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY wish for NotYetLostFaith who recently worked her way through my Zibbs, favoriting them along the way, having joined us from Camp Tiva. :p Thanks for spreading your reading wings; i__t's truly a pleasure to have you aboard this ship with us. _=)  


_My apologies for the delay in posting. The editing was not going smoothly until I discovered that what I thought would be one last chapter really wanted to be three. Perhaps you won't complain ... ^_^  
_

* * *

Jethro stood just out of reach of the waves unfurling gently on the shore and allowed his thoughts to continue wandering, still thinking about this week with Ziva.

He was fascinated by the mix she was of vibrant young woman and old soul, with eyes and a heart that had witnessed more than most, maybe even more than his own had seen. Could be that was one reason they fit together so well … he didn't have to hide even the dark sides of himself from her, as long as he could overcome his knee-jerk reaction to do just that.

She laughed and smiled a lot this week and so did he. When they connected like that and when they made love, he felt the differences that were there between them melt away.

More than once he found himself watching her and thinking that she should be with a much younger man, but even the thought of her with anyone else was like a roundhouse kick to his gut. And then she would look at him, practically brimming with happiness and glowing with contentment, and he could feel her certainty that she didn't want to be anywhere else but with him.

Thank God.

Going away together had been one of his better ideas, he congratulated himself. They'd learned things about each other and about themselves that might have taken longer to be revealed in the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

For instance, most people only knew the Ziva who was strong, direct and exotically gorgeous, a woman who dressed with an eye toward practicality even above comfort, the first person you'd want at your back or by your side in a firefight or when you needed protection.

He'd now become thoroughly acquainted with what some might call the more traditionally feminine side of her and there was a different kind of strength and beauty there that not many people were privileged to see. He knew she was used to viewing herself more narrowly, too, without often consciously acknowledging this aspect of herself. And yet, when she relaxed and didn't think about it, it just flowed naturally from her.

He was fiercely glad that she not only revealed it to him, but truly shared that side of herself with him, wrapped him in it … while she still remained the Ziva he already knew.

In addition to the warmth he felt watching her with those children that afternoon, it was a pleasant surprise to find she owned more flirty little dresses in a rainbow of colors than he ever would have guessed given her usual attire and that she wore a bra as little as possible. He was a big fan of both those wardrobe choices.

The woman loved to be barefoot, especially in the house and on the beach.

And something in her collection of lingerie and bikinis just might stop his heart one of these days.

She moisturized her skin diligently with a myriad of lotions that had always tantalized him with their scent. This week he discovered he loved helping with that particular activity, massaging the strong muscles under the silky soft skin as he did ... reveling in the way he could render her near-to-boneless with just his touch.

He now knew she liked to wear long, pretty, dangly earrings though she never wore them to work and that she loved to window shop.

Gibbs was a little shocked to find that he wasn't impatient to move along to something else when something caught her eye … that he enjoyed watching the way she moved, was fascinated by the manner in which she used all of her senses to absorb whatever she was considering, loved noting what made her eyes light up.

One evening she found an artist she liked out on the pier who made jewelry out of tri-colored gold. After perusing the various items for a while, running her fingertips over them because she just couldn't help but touch, she held up several different sets of earrings to her ear to ask what he thought. She began rolling her eyes when he always said it looked good, whatever she held in her hand. He couldn't help it; it was always true.

She finally settled on two pairs, though she managed to coax him into participating in the choosing. For the first, she made him close his eyes, then open them and choose a favorite quickly without over-thinking it. She repeated the process with herself for the second pair. Unexpectedly, that method added an element of fun that had them both laughing lightheartedly.

When he surprised her later that evening in their condo with a bracelet over which she'd lingered but hadn't purchased, she was thrilled and happy and simply floored ... not only because he'd done it without her noticing, but also just by the fact that he'd bought it at all.

Placing the thin soft braid of gold, silver and rose-colored gold on her wrist, he learned something about himself: that his possessive side was extremely satisfied to see her wearing something he'd given her, that marked her as his.

When she never took it off, that possessive streak practically beat on its metaphoric chest with primal pleasure.

He'd gone into this week already knowing she ate a lot of salad and fruit; few people looked like she did without doing that. Thanks to her, he'd eaten more of that himself on this vacation than he usually did and found it wasn't so bad. Left him feeling kinda good, even.

Now he also knew she loved to drink flavored iced tea, had a weakness for vanilla ice cream with both chocolate and peanut butter sauces drizzled over it, and preferred Greek yogurt. He discovered he actually liked the yogurt, too - if he could lick it off her.

But he just might like it even better when she returned the favor.

As she'd promised a couple of months ago, she had indeed shown him he was not too old to make love on a couch. His body stirred just thinking back to yesterday afternoon when they'd gotten hungry for each other while going for a dip in the ocean.

After swimming around for a while, they'd floated together to wrap around each other. Soon, his hands were wandering unseen below the water and her tongue was halfway down his throat. They barely made it to the room still wearing what little clothing they had on and she pushed him straight to the couch, promptly straddling him.

Looking into his eyes, she removed her bathing suit top and dropped it deliberately to the floor before releasing her hair from high on her head to fall in waves of damp silk down her back. His mouth went dry then positively salivated when she guided him to her breast in silent demand. He was happy to oblige.

Before long, she had her hand inside his trunks stroking him, using every bit of knowledge she'd gained about him this week very effectively. Just when he was certain he wouldn't last a minute longer, she shoved the center of her bikini bottoms to the side, unwilling, too ravenous to separate from touching him even long enough to stand up and remove them. The last of his control snapped as she lined him up at her entrance and took him inside her all the way in one swift movement. His hands on her ass, his mouth suckling her breast, she rode him with breathtaking urgency until they both came in a sudden kaleidoscope of sensation.

Eventually, she slipped off his lap to lean against his side, still trying to catch her breath. When she could speak, she said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I have never had this much sex in such a few days in my life," she revealed with an alluring, airy laugh.

"Me neither," he admitted, his head leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed. Then he turned his head to capture her gaze with his. Smirking wolfishly at her, he squeezed her hand. "But I like it."

She grinned happily back at him even as another piece of her heart melted.

Raising the backs of her fingers to caress his cheek tenderly, she whispered in a voice that had suddenly gone husky with emotion, "Me, too."

Closing her eyes, she lay back on the couch and tugged him down on top of her to cuddle and relax. Perhaps no one would have guessed this about either of them, but they'd discovered they both loved to touch and snuggle against the other, much to their mutual pleasure.

Not for the first time, he could almost hear her thinking_ I love you so much, _but she didn't say it out loud and he found himself reluctant to call her on it_. _Just yet.

It had taken both of them a couple of days into the vacation to completely unwind, but, once they did, they were able to leave work and the rest of the world behind and simply be with each other.

These days away from their usual lives were a mix of leisure and recreation. While normally a man of action, Gibbs found he didn't mind lying on the beach for at least part of every day or taking a long, slow stroll that had no ultimate goal. Of course, the scenery probably helped – and he wasn't talking about the ocean.

They rented bikes for a lengthy ride one morning, swam every day, and walked or ran on the beach. They took the Mustang out for a long drive with the top down along a curvy highway that hugged the coastline. Much to her delight, Ziva even talked – well, _nuzzled_ – Jethro into letting her take a turn at the wheel. He couldn't stop grinning at her excitement as she competently handled the fun, sexy car.

He just might have to buy one of those so he could see that look on her face again.

And when the sun went down … well, that time was filled with a delicious, sensual exploration and fulfillment that solidified their connection on a whole new level beyond anything either of them had ever known.

They now had two more nights here and then it was back to the real world. For the first time in his life, Gibbs was sorry to see a vacation come to an end. But maybe … hopefully … this ending was actually a beginning.

His desire for that had become crystal clear to him tonight.

Earlier they'd walked to the pier after dinner to watch the sunset as they'd done every other night. The now-familiar magician made a show in front of pretty Ziva. She pretended to be amazed at his antics, then laughed in true enjoyment when he pulled a gold coin out from behind her ear.

Jethro's heart absolutely turned over in his chest as she tossed her head back in her amusement, raising a hand to spear her fingers into one side of her long silky hair. The bracelet he'd given her had glinted in the waning daylight and she was so beautiful she stole his breath.

For his last trick, the magician pulled a real red rose from a cane and started to hand it to the charmed Ziva. Gibbs shifted closer, catching the man's attention. The look in his steely blue eyes was clear. _Mine._

And no one else was going to give her roses before he'd thought to do it – which he should have done before now, he ruefully acknowledged to himself.

With a slight bow and a flourish of his hand, the magician presented Gibbs with the flower, gesturing that he should give it to the lady. Ziva had smiled and looked up at her lover, unaware of the look that had passed between the men.

With a smile of his own just for her, Jethro handed her the rose, pulling her front in close to his with a possessive hand on her lower back. The magician faded back to find a new audience as these two were now clearly wrapped up in themselves.

"Thank you," Ziva murmured to Gibbs, bending her head to breathe in the surprisingly heady scent.

And just like that, he knew.

Looking at her there in the setting sun, the angled hem of her strapless black sundress flirting about her knees in the light breeze, her lovely face buried in the flower, her body leaning into his with complete trust, he knew.

He loved her.

On some level he'd known that for a while, but now he _knew_ – knew it deep in his bones … knew it without reservation … understood that it was forever.

Now he had to convince her to let him keep her. That he wanted to be kept in return.

That he didn't need any more time.

Ziva looked a little surprised when Gibbs suddenly asked if they could head back to their own stretch of beach, even though they wouldn't be able to see the glowing sun actually dip below the horizon as their beach faced the east. There was something unreadable in his eyes and she raised a hand to lightly touch his cheek, slightly concerned.

But rather than press him on that here, her lips curved slightly and she murmured _Of course._

When they got back to their rooms, he walked straight to the beach, his head full of thoughts and searching for the words with which to speak them. She stayed inside long enough to lay down her purse and put her rose in some water and undoubtedly kick off her shoes.

Hoping the right words would come to him, Jethro looked out over the water allowing his thoughts to bubble up and spill over, taking him where they may as he focused on the woman who had unexpectedly captured his heart.


	7. Illumination

_A/N: This chapter comes as a another birthday surprise, this one for my friend MollyGibbs101. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOLZ! Hope you're having a wonderful day and that you enjoy this bit. =) xoxoxo  
_

_One more chapter should close this one out, unless Ziva & Gibbs have other plans for me here (which they might!). After that, it's back to "Waves of Grace;" after all, we've got to get that bullet out of Ziva's shoulder! ;p  
_

* * *

_Previously in "Where There's Smoke" …_

_Gibbs stood on the beach staring out over the Atlantic Ocean. The only sounds to be heard were the crashing of the waves and the occasional caw of a gull as it swooped over the water. No one else was around. He might have been the only person on the planet; it seemed he was that alone. Unbidden, he found his thoughts drifting over the past nearly-three weeks …_

Suddenly two slender tanned arms curled snugly around his waist.

He wasn't alone after all.

Hadn't been all week.

For far longer, truth be told.

Hopefully, never again.

"Dollar for your thoughts," Ziva cajoled him lightly, her cheek pressed to his back.

"Penny, Ziver," he corrected her affectionately, wrapping his arms over hers.

"Yours are worth much more than that," she disagreed with a warm smile that he could hear in her voice.

"Actually, gotta agree with you there – right now, anyway," he responded enigmatically.

He turned sideways while pulling her around to face him. Looping his arms around her waist, he looked down at her.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked, her eyes trying to read what was going on in his head.

"You," he answered, dropping a brief kiss to her upturned lips. His tone spoke volumes, but not all of it was coming through loud and clear.

Her heart quickened.

"Hmmmm," she drawled with a casualness she did not really feel. She tilted her head, pretending to consider his answer. "Good or bad?"

"All good," he assured her with his characteristic smile.

"Well, that is a relief," she said with an exaggerated sigh.

He brought one hand up to cup her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. She turned her head instinctively and pressed her lips to it before their smiling mouths came together in a kiss that started out slow and gentle and ended up deep and brimming with passion.

After they came up for air, they held each other close, her head resting on his shoulder as she looked out over the ocean that reflected a painted, darkening sky. He could feel her silent sigh.

"What're you thinkin' about?" he asked in turn, his lips against her hair.

"That I do not really want to leave in two days," she admitted softly.

"Part of what I was thinking, too," he revealed, smoothing a hand down her hair.

She raised her head to look into his handsome face. A bit of apprehension that perhaps he was ready to get back to his former life relaxed inside her with what she found there.

"I am glad," she whispered, returning her head to his shoulder.

It was getting harder and harder to keep giving him emotional space instead of hauling him off to the nearest rabbi and binding him to her forever, especially with the incredible week they'd shared. However, she was determined not to push and was secretly afraid she'd just shove him away if she did. So, she continued to keep the most precious secrets of her heart to herself while still trying to be as unguarded with him as she could be.

After holding each other in the silence for long minutes, he spoke.

"You said somethin' to me a couple months ago that you haven't said since," he said quietly. "You've thought it, but haven't said it."

Turning her face up to his with a gentle finger under her chin, he asked simply, "Why?"

Her heart tripped in her chest, but she didn't pretend to misunderstand.

"You asked for time and I said I would give it to you," she revealed softly after overcoming her initial surprise at the direction in which he was taking the conversation. Struggling a bit with those emotional shields of hers, her eyes flicked away from his. "I have no desire to push you into saying something you might not truly mean."

"You really think I'd do that?" he asked quizzically.

She shrugged lightly, still not looking at him.

"You would not _want_ to do it," she explained astutely, "but you also care enough about me that you do not wish to hurt me. And, if I had kept saying those words, you might have reached a point where you believed it would hurt me not to hear them back."

She paused.

"And perhaps it would have," she admitted in a voice that he had to strain to hear, "even though I keep reminding myself that there is no guarantee you will ever feel that way about me."

He could hear in her voice just a hint of the strain she was under, trying to be open and present and fully herself with him, while, at the same time, trying to prepare herself for the distinct possibility that there might not be a happy ever after here. Unbeknownst to him, she couldn't imagine why she would get to have that with this man, anyway, much as she yearned for it.

It saddened Gibbs just a little to come face-to-face again with the position in which he'd put her the last couple of months. It was time to move her out of that place and he owed it to her to lead the way.

"So," he said almost casually, "guess that means this time I have to go first, huh?"

Her eyes flew to his and in the light of the slowly setting sun he could see the pulse at the base of her neck pound against her skin. Her lips parted on an almost-soundless gasp.

He smiled at her, looking at her with the love he felt for her fully on display.

"Jethro?" she whispered, making no move to hide the hope that reached out to him from her big brown eyes.

She bowled him over.

"How do you do that?" he murmured in wonder, distracted by the honest emotion she so often showed him. "How do you risk letting me see what you're feeling when I haven't given you much reason for it?"

"Because I trust you," she replied without hesitation in a quiet, but clear voice. "No matter if you decide now or later that this is – that _I_ am – not what you want, I trust you to tell me the truth and to care for me as much as you are able, even in that."

She paused for a heartbeat.

"Besides," she continued quietly, "I am not ashamed of my feelings for you and will not ask more of you than I am willing to give ... even when I have the urge to protect myself instead."

He shook his head.

"Don't deserve you," he declared, laying a finger over her lips when she would have disagreed. "But do want you, want everything with you."

He paused for a moment to allow that to sink in, for both of them.

"Want to fall asleep with you, see your smile first thing in the morning, take walks on the beach, drive to work together and raise dancing soccer players with you – a whole team of 'em, if you want."

Her heart was pounding even faster listening to his words, but this time it was due to the burgeoning joy that was threatening to burst right out of her chest.

That last brought her up a little short.

"Jethro, there are three to eleven players on a soccer team depending on the age," she informed him faintly.

At some level of consciousness, she berated herself silently. _Seriously? With all that he said, __that__ was the first thing out of your mouth?_

"Guess we better get started sooner than later then," he observed as casually as though he was discussing their drive back home, his eyes twinkling devilishly.

She gave a nervous laugh, her head spinning.

"I think we had better slow down for a minute," she breathed, suddenly being the one who needed time.

"Okay," he agreed, "but I'm not standing here getting any younger, just so you know."

She huffed out a chuckle that also managed to communicate her uncertainty that this was really happening, and buried her face in his chest. She could feel his heart beating strongly, surely.

Her friend, the man she adored, had become her lover this week, filling her with a happiness she'd never known. She couldn't deny that deep down she'd hoped that this time away together would result in some declaration of his feelings for her, but she hadn't allowed herself to dream that it might go this far this soon. The wondrous feeling that she was about to become even happier than she'd even imagined began to bloom inside her.

"Do you think maybe you could get to that 'going first' part?" she mumbled against him.

"Let's see … now what was that?" he asked in mock consideration, nuzzling his nose against her hair.

She punched him none too lightly and his famous half-grin tugged at his lips.

Placing a gentle hand under her chin, he raised her lovely face again to stare into her brown eyes that were now sparkling with hopeful unshed tears, the love she'd felt for him for years beginning to shine unreservedly in their depths.

"I love you, Ziva," Gibbs told her, his voice ringing with certainty. "Loved you even when I lied to myself about it. Love you now. Always gonna love you."

"Even when we are back at work?" she couldn't help but question, worried that when real life intruded once again, he might not be able to live this life with her, even if he wanted it. It was easy here; it might not be so simple there.

Though she had to admit the last few weeks had gone just fine – better than fine.

"Especially then," he husked. "The Dearing situation could have eaten me alive. It didn't, because of you. Never told you how good it felt to have you with me on _and _off the job the last couple of months. Should have."

Staring into those blue eyes until she saw everything she had longed to see, Ziva laid her cheek against his chest, molding to him like they'd been made for each other. And, finally, she said the words out loud again.

"I am so in love with you," she shared in a voice that was soft but true. "And I almost cannot believe you love me back, but I want it so much …"

"Believe it," he commanded gently, running his hands gently up and down her back as though attempting to absorb every line and curve of her right into his skin.

"I do trust you to tell me the truth about your feelings," she replied slowly, "but we might have to live this for a while before I can really accept that the universe thinks I deserve you."

"If the universe tries to mess with you on this, I'll have your six while you kick its ass," he informed her, the tenderness and reassurance in his touch, in his voice belying the casual teasing in his words. He tipped her face up to his. "Deal?"

She breathed out a sigh that combined relief with surrender before her airy laugh danced on the air, secretly beyond pleased that his first choice was to leave the ass-kicking in her capable hands.

"Deal," she promised, the look on her face priceless to him. For once, it seemed he'd said exactly the right thing.

Happiness bursting inside her like fireworks on the Fourth of July, Ziva slid a hand around the back of his neck, spearing her fingers into that gorgeous silvering hair. Slowly, oh so slowly, she tilted her head and pulled his mouth down to hers. Their lips brushed once … twice, then nipped … clung … slid … tugged. When her tongue licked along his lower lip, he actually growled and her heart gave a happy leap when she felt it rumble in his chest. Even as he opened up to welcome her in, he claimed her mouth as his own. The heat flared and the kiss went deeper and deeper still, spinning out, filled with the need and desire and love that would always be between them.


	8. Rising Through The Flames

_A/N: Well, here it is ... the last chapter (I think!) in this little story that was only supposed to be 1 or 2 chapters. It is also a double birthday gift for my dear friends LauraEve24 and SexinSatin. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, gals! :p  
_

_There is a lot of ground for our happy couple to cover here, so settle in for a bit of a long one. :) I hope you enjoy it and that you'll let me know if you do. Thanks so much for joining me for this story that became so much more than I thought it would.  
_

* * *

_The heat flared and the kiss went deeper and deeper still, spinning out, filled with the need and desire and love that would always be between them._

When they pulled far enough apart to breathe, Ziva buried her face in her lover's neck. Comfortable, warm silence reigned between them for a few moments.

"I am going to miss sleeping next to you every night," she revealed in a murmur against his skin.

Gibbs leaned back far enough to look down at her, prompting her to glance up at him. He had one eyebrow lifted almost imperiously.

"At the beginning of the week, you wouldn't assume anything," he began, referring to their undetermined sleeping arrangements when she booked their rooms, "but now you're assuming _that_?"

His tone was one of exaggerated disbelief, but his hold on her was nothing but possessive and tender.

Her brown eyes locked on his blue ones, a myriad of emotions flitting across her face.

"You are saying we will still sleep together … " _all_ "… most nights?" she clarified cautiously, doing her best to sound neutral rather than hopeful and failing miserably.

"Hell, yeah," he declared without a doubt. "As often as we can pull off with work and living in two separate places."

He held off telling her that he intended for them to be living in the same place soon – his, hers or a whole new place; he didn't really care – 'cause maybe she wasn't ready to hear that yet.

She watched his face for any hint that he might not be serious. When she found none, she relaxed against him almost bonelessly, a beautiful smile curving her lips. He felt her take a deep breath and then let it out in a silent sigh of relief as she laid her cheek against his chest.

"I would like that," she shared softly, squeezing him tightly.

That warm, comfortable silence returned, the invisible strands that connected them growing even stonger, wrapping around them like a protective cocoon.

"Can I tell you something else?" she nearly whispered in a voice so low it was almost like she was afraid someone else would hear and snatch it from her.

"Anything," he promised, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"I loved holding baby Sarah this week," she shared almost shyly.

He smiled against her hair. "You sound surprised."

"I … think I am," she admitted hesitantly, still clearly slightly off-balance at her reaction to the little one.

"You were a natural," he told her with certainty. "With her big brother and the soccer kids, too."

"You really think so?" she asking wistfully, looking up at him with vulnerable eyes that begged for reassurance.

"Know so," he said firmly, looking down at her.

Ziva forced a swallow past the lump in her throat.

"No one has ever said that to me," she breathed raggedly, her emotions threatening to overcome her. "Not about children."

"Doesn't make it any less true," he affirmed with conviction.

She held onto the man in her arms with her cheek flush against his magnificent chest once more as she allowed his words, his certainty to wash over her, warming her in the best possible way.

Before Jethro, Ziva had convinced herself that having a family of her own, being a mother, was not part of her destiny. She was a soldier, had become an investigator … always someone who protected and stood for other people's families. She'd even reasoned with herself that perhaps that was for the best. After all, she wasn't sure she'd know how to be anyone's mother, despite the tender, but now distant memories of her own _Ima_ that still lived in her heart.

However, the interactions with Sarah, Henry and the kids playing soccer this week coupled with the bond that was strengthening, even flourishing between Jethro and her had roused an unexpected yet powerful want within her to make a family with him that would indeed include children – even if she was terrified on some level that she had no skills that would apply to parenting. But Jethro … he'd be heart-meltingly wonderful and she so wanted to see that, to be a part of giving that to him.

"Know what I loved?" he questioned her just as quietly as she had him, drawing her out of her introspection.

"When Henry asked you if Marines hugged," she guessed confidently, her lips curved slightly as she blinked back tears and glanced up at him once more.

"Caught that, did ya?" He smiled, thinking back to that moment. "Close, but was thinking of watching you hold that baby girl."

Ziva swallowed hard and closed her eyes against the tears that pricked more insistently at his gentle words. She squeezed him even more tightly, unable to speak for several moments. They didn't need words for her to understand that something inside him had shifted and he was now seeing possibilities that he'd thought were long behind him. And, somehow, because of that, her own vision, her hopes for the future became more real, too.

Still, a question lingered in the back of her mind.

"Why did you not have more children after you got married again?" she asked almost hesitantly. She did not want to say anything that would cause him to withdraw emotionally from her, but she needed to know the answer to that. And, as he'd said before, talking to each other was the only way this relationship was going to work.

"Was always gone a lot, worked a lot of hours," he started superficially. Then he stopped. She deserved more than that from him.

Sigh.

After a meaningful pause, he dug deeper and said it out loud.

"Truth was, worked more than I needed to, trying to avoid a lot of things – including the fact that I couldn't think about having more kids then and didn't want to talk about why."

He looked at her with love and certainty, running his hand down her hair. "But that's different with you." Slowly his eyes took on a wry glint. "Okay, still working on the talking part, but do I get points for trying?"

Her loving, laughing smile took his breath away. "You get too many points to count for trying – and you are succeeding quite well."

They were both smiling as the distance between their faces closed, their noses brushing slightly, their lips meeting in the briefest of butterfly kisses and then another … before melting into each other completely, their mouths parting to deepen the kiss. It went on and on, as everything but the connection between them faded away. At long last, they pulled apart, lips clinging for a moment before separating far enough to take in much-needed oxygen.

"Dancing soccer players, hmmm?" Ziva questioned softly when she'd recovered somewhat, lifting one hand to dab at the corner of her eye.

"Mhm," he said confidently. "With dark hair and brown eyes."

Looping both arms around his neck and capturing his gaze, she thrilled at his words, but countered with, "What if I want a blue-eyed Marine? Or even more than one?"

"You can have those, too, plus this one whenever you want," he assured her, his heart in his eyes.

That smile of hers bloomed, the one that telegraphed she was already holding all she'd ever truly need.

"You should prepare yourself for the fact that I want you often … and forever," she informed him, her voice lowering on the last two words.

"Works for me. That a proposal, Ziver?" he questioned her lovingly with just a hint of teasing.

Ziva's world went completely still except for the pounding of her heart.

"What if it was?" she dared in a husky voice, her galloping pulse and breathlessly hopeful heart at odds with her light demeanor.

"Then I just became the happiest guy on earth," he answered sincerely, all joking aside and every ounce of the love he felt for her reflected in his eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat. It seemed to take an eternity before she could speak.

"How …" She stopped and shook her head slightly.

"How what?" he nudged, nuzzling his nose in her hair.

After a breath, she continued.

"How can you be certain it has been long enough for you to be sure about that?"

"Just am," he vowed clearly, not an iota of doubt in his voice.

Her brow furrowed lightly, her mixed emotions plain for him to see. The enormity of what they were not-quite-teasing about hit her and she suddenly lost her emotional footing. She wanted to believe him so badly, but was afraid to trust that she was and would continue to be all he would ever want.

"How come you're sure it's true for you, but not for me?" he asked gently, perceptively, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, rubbing soothingly.

She didn't answer at first, clearly trying to formulate her thoughts.

"I have been dreaming about you since before I even met you," she started quietly, almost hesitantly, laying her ear to his shoulder. "You fascinated me from the moment I began researching you before I came to the States."

She paused.

"After we met in person, I was even more … captivated by you, but I did not truly understand my feelings for what they were … until you left for Mexico and I thought you were never coming back." Her voice broke and her emotions tugged at his heart. "That is when I knew that I was in love with you in a way that I had never been with anyone in my life."

He tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple as he held her close.

Ziva cleared her throat gently before she continued. "Then you came back to save me …" She turned her face to press a grateful kiss to his chest. "… and then you came back for good and the hole in my heart closed as much as I thought it ever would. I was certain you would never return my feelings, so I tried to keep a wall around them and just be happy with the closeness we did have."

She tilted her head and looked up at him. "And I _was_ happy about that and most of the time I could make that be enough. But sometimes … it was harder to hold my feelings in."

"Like that night I came to your apartment?" he asked quietly.

She nodded.

"And despite the fact that I tried dating other men, I could never shake this feeling that …" Ziva stopped as though searching for the right words before trying again. "Whenever you touch me for any reason at all, even casually, my whole body reacts with this sense of … of _rightness_ as though it recognizes you on some level that I do not feel with anyone else ..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them to meet his gaze. "I always feel like '_There _you are,' like I have been waiting for you my whole life."

A light blush stained her cheeks and she dipped her head.

"Perhaps you think that sounds ridiculous," she mumbled.

"Nope," he denied softly, brushing his lips over her bent head.

Ziva released a silent sigh of relief.

"So you see, I have had all these years of living with my feelings for you," she finished quietly, "while you have just been even considering this for a few weeks."

Gibbs was amazed and humbled to hear just how long she'd been in love with him. The fact that he hadn't noticed spoke to her consummate skill in keeping her emotions hidden and his own ability to avoid his altogether.

But he sensed there was more on her mind that she was still keeping to herself.

"And?" he probed, with a slight squeeze of encouragement.

She didn't answer right away, but he waited her out.

"And, while I have never been happier than I have been these last two months, part of me keeps asking why me? And why did it take all this time if it is real for you, too?" she admitted. After a heartbeat, she continued, her voice fading to a whisper, "And once we are back home, will you decide that this is too complicated because of work or that I am simply not what you want beyond a fun vacation? I am not like other women, Jethro. I have moments where I honestly cannot figure out why you would choose to be with me when you could be with anyone you wanted."

There she went again, amazing him with the level to which she laid herself bare before him, shared those parts that left her feeling the most vulnerable.

Would he ever get used to that?

Could he give it back to her?

As though she could hear his thoughts, she lifted her head and cautiously found his gaze with her own.

He let out a sigh and hugged her in even closer. For her, he'd keep trying. Taking her questions out of order, he responded in a voice that was sure and true.

"It took all this time 'cause I'm an idiot," he started and shook his head when she opened her mouth to automatically contradict him. "'s true. Kept holding onto my rules and memories instead of seeing what was right in front of me – even though part of me knew."

He stared into those gorgeous brown eyes he could cheerfully drown in, wishing he could find the words that would settle her worries. "And not everything is just about time."

He firmly believed that last statement. After all, he ultimately trusted his gut more than anything else in making most decisions and time usually had nothing to do with that.

"As to why you," he continued, then tilted his head roguishly to the side. "I assume you mean besides the sex?" His eyes took on a decidedly flirtatious twinkle that began melting her inner tension. She loved the intimate humor they shared - yet another layer of connection, one that had surprised her, really.

Her lips twitched. "Besides that." Then her eyes took on that same sultry gleam. "Though it _is_ really, really fantastic sex."

"I'll say," he murmured in smoky voice that sent delicious shivers zinging down her spine.

They shared a smile and a warm, moist, deep kiss that went a long way toward answering her questions wordlessly, easing her anxiety.

"Making love," he murmured when he lifted his head. "That's what I should have said. We make love, Ziva."

His words warmed her heart and earned him another kiss that somehow managed to be soft and sweet and yet full of desire, her lips supple and clinging under his, her tongue delving past his lips to tease and slide against his before she released his mouth to snuggle her face into his throat.

"Don't know if I can explain the 'why you' part," he admitted, "but I'll try."

This time he paused to think.

"Except with Shannon and Kelly, always kept my feelings mostly to myself," he admitted. The words came slowly, had stops and starts, but he forced himself to keep going. "Even when I got married again after they were gone, kept part of me separate. Couldn't depend on anyone else being there … so acted like I didn't need or even want that … was always the strong one … didn't let anyone in close enough to see my dark places or the times when … when maybe I just wanted someone to hold onto … to hold me back."

His feet shifted, clearly communicating his discomfort.

"Prob'ly not saying this right," he muttered, glancing back out over the water for a moment.

Turning his face back to hers with a gentle hand on his jaw and glistening moisture in her eyes, Ziva steadied him with her look, her tone as only she had a way of doing. In a voice husky with her own emotion, she assured him, "You are doing just fine."

Cupping her face in his hand, he smoothed a thumb over her cheek, grateful for her on so many levels.

"But that's different with you, too. Always has been, in some ways," he shared. "I want you because you're smart and beautiful and sexy and we just … fit together. But there's more to it than that." His voice faltered slightly as he kept searching for the right words. "You understand the dark places, even without me saying much or even anything at all … and you're strong enough to be the other half of me, to shore me up when I need it. I trust you to do that ... to let you in close enough to do it."

He paused once more and his tone shifted from hesitant to completely certain, his eyes steadfastly on hers. "You and me together – that's stronger than either one of us alone."

Happy tears stung her eyes and a lone bead of moisture overflowed to run down her cheek. He smoothed it away with his lips so gently that her breath caught in her chest. He hugged her close in silent communication and her arms tightened around him in response. Then, something that had been niggling at him crystallized and he pulled back to look at her quizzically. When he spoke, there was just a hint of challenge to his tone.

"What did you mean – you're not like other women?"

She shrugged.

"I am not," she stated matter-of-factly. "I know more about weapons than I do about babies. I am not nice or sweet or, or … nurturing ..."

Now she was the one struggling to find the right words.

"You done?" he asked with an eyebrow raised when she didn't go on.

She lifted her shoulders and avoided his eyes. She didn't really want to see the confirmation that she was right on his face, but she needed to make sure he understood exactly what he was getting with her.

Jethro brought both hands up to frame her cheeks, his long fingers tunneling into her hair. Turning her face up to his, he gently commanded her to look at him. She did so reluctantly.

"Knowing more about weapons than babies doesn't make you less of a woman," he stated definitively. "Just means you've had different experiences. And you're wrong about not being nurturing. You're quiet about it and just do it without thinking, but you're one of the most protective, caring people I know, especially when it comes to the people closest to you."

She started to disagree, but he cut her off.

"Ziver, you even stepped in front of a soccer ball that was headed my way this week so it wouldn't hit me, acting purely on instinct - and it wasn't for the chance to kick one again." One corner of his mouth kicked up in his characteristic smile. "That was just an added bonus."

Her lips curved faintly, but her eyes moved down to stare at his chest.

"I have failed to take care of everyone," she whispered painfully, her ghost of a smile fading away.

He bent his head until he could capture her gaze again.

"Me too." He waited for a heartbeat before continuing, the silence speaking volumes. "We've both learned we can't protect everyone we love all the time. Doesn't mean you won't go down trying every chance you get – and doesn't mean you don't care enough."

He paused again, hoping his words would seep into her brain, settle in her heart.

"And you're nicer than I am," he added almost as an afterthought.

She snorted lightly and bit back the obvious. He grinned at her as he could hear her thinking _That does not take much_.

And she wouldn't have him any other way.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, leaving his lips against her skin.

"Love all the parts that make you you," he shared quietly, "including the ones you don't give yourself enough credit for."

Then he just held her close, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other running appreciatively down her back and over her hip, wordlessly communicating his pleasure in the side of her that sometimes liked to wear a sexy, fun strapless dress. He silently gave her time to absorb what he'd told her.

"I am not sure I agree with everything you said, but perhaps …" she started tentatively, searching for a way to make sense of his beliefs in her own head. "Perhaps these other sides you see are part of how I have changed since I have been in America."

Her brow was furrowed, her innate attempt to analyze this with her brain complicated by the maelstrom of emotions running though her. Her face suggested she wasn't quite sure what to think and her tone suggested she still wasn't completely certain that being changed was a good thing – or that she really had been.

With a gentle finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to his again.

"Being here hasn't changed you, Ziver," Gibbs disagreed. "We just gave you a place to be more of yourself."

She stared into his arresting blue eyes, searching. She wanted to believe him, wanted to so very much.

Finally, she leaned completely into him once more, soaking in his strength, his certainty, his love. Maybe he believed enough for both of them for now.

"Been waiting for you, too," he revealed after several long moments, holding her as though he'd never let her go, "just didn't think a second chance like this was really out there for me … and so I almost missed you." He laid his forehead to hers. "When I said a few days ago that maybe this is everything, I was wrong."

He felt her confusion in the way her body froze.

"This _is_ everything, Ziver," he declared, raising his head just far enough to look into her eyes. "And, yeah, life isn't vacation every day, but my feelings for you are real and they aren't going away no matter where we are or what we do. Being worried about work, about whether this will hold up in real life, that's your issue." His gaze and tone were gentle, but his words rang true. "I understand it, just don't share it.

"If it's your turn to need some time to believe that, okay," he continued. "After three divorces, maybe you think I'm a bad risk. But at some point I hope you can trust that I mean it when I say I'm not going anywhere and don't want you to, either."

Ziva looked at him, thoughts careening through her brain at breakneck speed, colliding into each other like those little cars she'd seen at amusement parks … bumping cars? No, but something like that.

She took a deep breath and emptied her mind so she could listen to her heart.

She loved him so much and she hadn't been lying when she said she trusted him. In fact, she trusted him more than she'd ever trusted anyone. She hadn't expected him to figure out in this short time that he wanted to stay with her always, to make a family with her, but should she really be surprised? The man might stew or even brood about something while he was trying to figure it out, but he was nothing if not decisive when he knew his own mind.

On some level, she understood that putting him up on a pedestal and herself anywhere but was no way to live a relationship. Neither one of them was perfect and they each brought their own strengths to this – and they would have each other's back on the weaknesses.

Was she seriously going to let fear over her own perceived inadequacies keep her from grabbing onto him and never letting go? Was she really going to ignore her gut - and his - that said this was real and _everything_ and always would be?

No, she wasn't.

If she didn't take this risk with him, she would always regret it. She would have no one but herself to blame for missing out on the best thing to ever happen to her, the most important, life-changing experience that ever would happen to her.

In her mind, she reached for that shiny ball of hope that had hovered just out of touch for so long, bright, beautiful and full of promise. Grasping it with both hands, she cradled it to her heart and stepped off the emotional ledge she'd been hugging precariously for the last few weeks, trusting him to catch her.

He could see it when she found her strength. There was his girl.

His half-smile tugged at his mouth as his own tension that maybe he'd left her questioning him for too long started to ease.

"Tony said that perhaps we are supposed to be 'not alone, together,'" she began in a voice that became stronger as she spoke. "I think that he is right."

"Knew I kept him around for a reason," Gibbs observed lightly, the humor mixed with love in his eyes bringing out the same in hers.

Her gaze stayed connected to his unwaveringly and gradually became more serious, more certain.

"I do trust you - completely," Ziva continued warmly, her eyes beginning to shine with all that she felt for him. "And I love you more than I ever knew was even possible."

"Love you, too," he reassured her, shifting his hand to spear his fingers into her hair and cradle her head.

"And I want you," she husked, running one hand up and down his handsome chest on top of his shirt, coming to rest over his heart. "Not just for making love …"

She stretched up and nipped his ear lobe with her teeth before soothing it with her tongue. She could feel the way he had to force himself to swallow and satisfaction flowed through her.

"Though I most definitely want you for that, too," she purred provocatively in his ear before nuzzling his neck just for the pure pleasure of it. Setting her bare heels back down on the ground, she caught his gaze again and continued, repeating some of his earlier words back to him and adding a few of her own.

"I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning … take walks on the beach and go see the mountains …"

They smiled at each other as her last comment took them back to when they first planned this trip.

"I want to ride to work with you, lean on each other when we need to, and make babies with you." The last was offered in a voice full of wonder and promise. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she murmured against his lips, "Maybe lots of babies."

"Many as you want," he breathed, brushing his mouth over hers.

Another wave of insecurity snuck past her newfound confidence.

"You will help me, yes?" she asked anxiously.

He favored her with a look and raised eyebrows. "Last I knew, you couldn't make 'em on your own." Then his eyes narrowed in mock warning. "And if anyone else tries to help you, there's gonna be a dead body in the room."

He thought she might chuckle at that, but he got a much more interesting reaction instead.

Her eyes went nearly black with unmistakable desire and her breath caught in her throat as a gush of wetness pooled in her panties at his possessive yet protective tone. Shifting slightly, she pressed her center against one of his thighs, riding him gently. She caught her lower lip in her teeth. His own body hardened as she melted into him.

Spearing her fingers into the silvering hair at the back of his neck, she pulled his mouth to within a breath of hers.

"Okay, _that_," she emphasized in a throaty voice, "was very …" She scraped his bottom lip with her teeth and he gripped her hips tightly in response. " … very …" She skimmed her lips over his jaw on her way to his ear. "unexpectedly … hot." She breathed the last word directly into his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

They shared a kiss that went beyond sensual and was completely without barrier.

When they came up for air and she could actually form a coherent thought, she teased him with an intimate grin. "Providing, of course, that the dead body will not be mine."

"Got other plans for your body," he assured her with a touch of arrogance. "Like being tied to our bed for a month." After some consideration, he added, "Maybe two."

"If that is supposed to be a punishment, I think you will have missed the mark," she confided in a sultry tone.

Now his eyes darkened with passion, unable to stop the picture that slammed into his brain.

"You wouldn't let me get away with that," he denied, even as the idea enticed him on some level. To say he was surprised by that would be putting it mildly. "Would you?"

His last question slipped out as though against his will, barely above breathing it out.

Ziva looked into his eyes for a long moment, then cupped the side of his face in her hand, smoothing her fingertips over his skin. Her voice was low and he had to concentrate to hear it over the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

"I have never done that," she admitted. "But for you, I would try, if that is something you want." The look in her eyes became even more certain, more honest. "_Only_ for you," she emphasized. "Only ever for you."

The enormity of the trust she placed in him – solely in him - knocked his breath from him. All he could do for a long moment was tip his forehead to hers and will her to understand all that was running through him.

"Would never hurt you," he mumbled adorably, clearly struggling a bit with this side of him that could relish holding her still to pleasure her over and over exactly as he wanted. He wasn't completely comfortable knowing he might enjoy having that kind of power and control.

"I know," she whispered with a tender smile, raising her lips to his in an invitation he couldn't resist.

Finally, Ziva pulled back to look into those amazing blue eyes that were still gleaming with passion for her. He wasn't the only one who was a little off-balance; she was slightly shocked at her own reaction to the jealous, possessive side of him. Smoothing her thumb along the chiseled edge of his jaw, she steadied herself and explained her previous question.

"No one will be helping me make babies but you," she promised in a husky voice. "I just needed to hear that you will help me learn the parenting part." She paused for a moment before continuing quietly. "I had decided I was not meant to be anyone's mother, but I have discovered that I want very much to be the mother of _your_ children."

"You'll be the kind of mother every kid wishes they had," he predicted. "The kind who'll love them no matter what, teach them what they need to know and be first in line to defend 'em or cheer 'em on."

He tucked her hair behind one ear with a gentle smile. "And you're gonna be better at it than you think, but, yeah, we'll do it together."

A sweet smile curved her lips. She curled her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his mouth again before she addressed one more issue he'd raised.

"And as for those divorces … they do not concern me. I think that sometimes you were weary of being alone and that you were searching all that time, even though you did not know it." She rubbed her nose playfully against his. "For me."

"Yeah," he sighed with relief, his tone full of such gratitude and certainty that her heart began to fly.

"Well then, Jethro … I guess there is just one more thing," she husked emotionally as she tilted her head back to look at him straight in the eye, her heart, all her hopes for the future – _their_ future - laid bare in her gaze. Bringing her fingers lightly to his cheek, she asked softly, "Will you marry me?"

One of those rare, full-blown, bone-melting smiles of his lit up his face. Tightening his arms about her waist, he lifted her off the ground to spin her around and around, his rich laugh of satisfaction and happiness music to her ears. Ziva held on tightly until he came to a stop.

"That is a yes?" she breathed achingly, the depths of her brown eyes communicating beautiful, beautiful hope.

"Oh, yeah," he answered with certainty.

Now her own smile was so wide it threatened to split her face as she squeezed him tightly about the neck with a joyful noise that carried out over the water.

He buried his face in her throat as he held her off the ground, happier than he'd believed he'd ever be again … or even deserved to be.

"No one's ever asked me before," he murmured revealingly against her skin.

She pressed even more closely to him, her heart moved. She turned her head until she found his lips with hers before laying her cheek against his hair.

"And no one else had better," she nearly growled.

"Wouldn't matter if they did," he assured her.

She raised her head and locked her gaze on his.

"_Ani ohevet otcha,"_ she whispered emotionally.

"Love you back," he told her, correctly deciphering the Hebrew from the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice, making a mental note to have her teach him how to say it back. "More than I can really tell ya."

The happiness in her eyes slowly took on a decidedly provocative twinkle.

"Perhaps you could show me," she suggested, rubbing against him alluringly.

"Whadya have in mind?" he asked in a smoky voice that had her melting, stringing a row of tiny kisses down her neck and reveling in her gasp of pleasure.

She whispered wickedly in his ear.

He swallowed. Hard.

God, he loved the way she thought.

"Can start there," he agreed decisively, adjusting his arms to sweep her up in his arms bridal style. He carried her to their bed as her sound of pure, enchanting delight danced on the warm night air.

She wouldn't be wearing one of those sexy nighties tonight.

She'd only be wearing him.

And the bracelet he'd given her – soon to be joined by the diamond he'd buy her.

And some of that edible massage oil she'd seductively purchased this week, coupled with his mouth on her _everywhere_, if she had her way.

Which she would.

Followed by practice at making those babies. Lots and lots of practice.

_Oo-rah … _and all that_._

_~The End~_


End file.
